Write: a Phanfiction
by dils.whisk
Summary: "You know, as much as I'd love to be rich, I don't think I'll ever believe money can buy happiness." "And why is that?" "Well, I can barely pay for my groceries but I still ended up with you, didn't I?" Or in which Dan is an aspiring writer with money troubles and Phil is a wealthy artist. Triggers: night terrors, mild anxiety, mentions of murder
1. Ch 1: Genisis

**April 17th**

Dan stared blankly at his old typewriter, pondering on how to form the tangle of ideas and dialogue in his mind into ink on paper. Writer's block was possibly the most infuriating thing in the world.

He reached forward slowly, placing his finger on the cool, concave keys his fingers fit so well. He rapidly typed out the first sentence.

 _ **The darkness clawed at my mind, daring me to give up and fall into its cold, dead grasp.**_

He stared at the words sitting on the paper, slightly hidden by the ribbon placed so carefully in the metal holder. It was incredulous really; how one minute he could sit down and type out an entire short story without even thinking about it, then other times he would stare at his blank sheet of paper for hours at a time, slowly being driven mad by his own disability to form words.

 _ **I tried to escape; to run as far as I could from the grotesque monsters lurking, where only the daftest of people dared to adventure.**_

Dan bit his lip, carefully analyzing the words.

 _That didn't sound right._

The young man tried again, erasing the previous sentence.

 _ **I tried to free myself from the hellish mental stage I had so foolishly allowed myself to fall into. But then again, even the most valiant and insolent of individuals would find themselves trapped in this horrific abyss of depression and self-loathing.**_

The paragraph became easier and easier to write, and Dan found himself smiling as he stared at the paper. Now he was getting somewhere.

 _ **It was as if all the will to live had been sucked out of me. I could hear whispers in the dark telling me to give up. Telling me to just pick up a gun and shoot it through my head. I tried to shove them aside, trudging unwillingly forward.**_

The young author continued writing, giving no thought to the small, cheap alarm clock that ticked further and further into the night.

...

Dan awoke from his deep sleep just as the sun broke its way over the horizon, casting small flecks of golden light in his hair. The man sat up, rubbing his eyes groggily. He had no idea on when he fell asleep, but he figured it didn't matter considering he woke up in time for work anyway.

Before he did anything else, Dan picked up the several papers of the story he had written last night, and quickly skimmed over them. Needless to say, he was terribly disappointed. The story was okay, he supposed, but it didn't have the mood he was hoping for.

Dan couldn't stress enough how much this story meant to him. It was his entry for a writing contest he had signed up for. Dan loved writing, it was his hobby, his passion, it was _him._ But his love for writing wasn't the only reason he had decided to join this competition. The winner got a cash prize of 700 pounds; and hell, Dan could use the money. He wasn't quite poor (yet), but bills were steadily getting harder and harder to pay for, and although he had a job running a small bookstore in town, business wasn't exactly booming. The average daily pay he got was only around twenty pounds, barely enough to cover his expenses. This money was just what he needed to give himself a financial boost.

Dan stood up from his desk, wincing as he felt the delayed effect of falling asleep in an old, wooden chair. His thoughts were interrupted by the ferocious growling of his stomach. Shuffling tiredly over to his fridge, he flung the door open, revealing a few beers, a bottle of vodka, and some old left-overs he forgot to throw out.

The pantry wasn't in any better condition.

The male groaned, running a hand through his curly brown locks. If he left now, he would have enough time to get a coffee and a breakfast from the local café before he opened at 9:30.

Begrudgingly, he hurried off to his room to get dressed.

...

Clad in a pair of white skinny jeans and a black, oversized sweater, Dan made his way out of his flat into the bookstore/first story part of his house. The minute he opened the door to the stairwell, he was hit with the scent of old books. Dan would never understand how someone could dislike the smell of old paper, it was one of his favorite things in the world. It gave him the nostalgic feel of when he was young and used to help his grandpa at the library. This was where Dan presumed he got his love for reading and writing.

He swung the shop door open, stepping into the streets. A gentle, cool breeze tousled his hair.

Dan smiled contently, surveying the happy little town. As he walked to the café a few blocks down, he began to mentally narrate the scene before him, something he had started doing to help himself practice writing.

 _The sky was a crisp, blue color with the occasional wispy cloud scattered here and there. A cool, but pleasant spring breeze swept across the town, rustling the flowers on potted plants outside of shop windows. There were a few cars here and there, but the town was just waking up, and the real traffic was yet to come._

Dan continued his mental game until he reached the coffee shop. The man swung open the door, being greeted immediately by the pleasant aromas of coffee and ornamental French pastries he had never heard of.

"Dan!" A cheerful, feminine voice called out.

Dan looked up, smiling when Louise came walking out of the kitchen, wiping flour off of her hands and onto her pink apron.

"Morning Lou!" The shop must have only just opened, seeing as he was—surprisingly-the only customer so far.

"The same as usual I presume?" She asked, preparing Dan his coffee.

He nodded before adding, "And a muffin as well please, chocolate!"

"Sure thing!" She smiled, brushing a golden blonde strand of hair out of her eyes.

The brunet took a seat down at the bar, fiddling mindlessly with a straw wrapper.

"So how's the story coming?" She asked, snapping Dan out of his thoughts.

Dan sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know Lou, I mean, I liked it at first, but the more I think about it the more I feel like it's not really what I wanted it to be. My original plan was to write an inspirational-cliché type story, but it ended up turning into a horror story about depression." He groaned, hanging his head in his hands.

"Aw Dan, don't worry, I'm sure you will think of something eventually!" She gave Dan an affectionate smile. "I mean, you're the best writer in town! I don't see why you don't get something published, especially that story about the detective solving that murder case, only to find out that the killer is his own assistant! That's one of my favorites!"

Dan shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I will someday... I just never have time." _Or the money._ He added mentally.

He pulled out his wallet to pay for his drink and muffin, but Louise waved her hand nonchalantly. "It's on the house."

Dan looked at his friend with fault. "No, no, Louise it's fine, really. I can pay" Dan's friends pitied him for his money troubles and took every opportunity they could to help him out. He knew they meant well, but frankly it always just made him feel rather guilty and helpless.

The man tried to argue, but Louise was having none of it. "Consider it an early birthday gift." She insisted after Dan's fifth attempt to talk her out of it.

Dan finally gave up, rolling his eyes but grinning slightly. "OK, fine. I need to get to work now, but I'll be sure to stop by for lunch." Dan waved to Louise as he turned to walk out of the café, coffee and muffin in hand

"Alrighty! See ya!" Louise called out after her friend as he walked into the cool, morning air and began walking back to work.

Dan had a slight spring in his step as he strolled down the sidewalk. He wasn't quite sure why, but he could just tell that today was going to be a good day.

 **A/N: I hope you guys liked it! please comment/vote!**


	2. Ch 2: Introduction

**A/N:** **Ik this is a shorter and slightly more boring chapter, but I hope to have a more action-packed chapter up tomorrow. I can't promise anything tho, I'm going to my grandma's house, and she doesn't have any wifi, so I am planning to write the next chapter in the car and then publish it when we stop at subway for lunch. SO if it's not uploaded tomorrow you can expect it on Tuesday. :) (this chapter isn't my best work but oh well.)**

 **April 17th**

Dan swallowed the last bit of coffee, tossing the empty cup into the small, metal trash can behind his desk. He glanced at his watch.

9:27

Pushing himself out of his chair, he walked over to the door, flipping the small sign that hung in the door so that it now read 'open'.

Dan took a moment to gaze out into the small town streets. They would be filling with people soon, hopefully, some of who would bother to stop by.

He turned back to his desk, sitting down and reclining back in the brown, leather chair. The typewriter loomed in front of him, a constant reminder of his inability to write something worth being published.

Groaning, Dan let his head drop back against the chair. He glowered up at the ceiling, straining to think of an even mildly interesting plot. Ideas swam through his head like minnows; every time one came into sight and he made a grab for it, it would slip through his fingers.

The school of thoughts in his head quickly scattered as the door swung open, the small bells emitting a high-pitched indication.

"Welcome to Howell's Book Emporium, how may I help you?" Dan muttered in a monotone voice, inwardly wincing at his lack of enthusiasm. Looking up, he faltered as his gaze landed on the customer. He was possibly the most striking man Dan had ever seen.

He had fair skin that seemed virtually void of any sort of blemish or deformation, his eyes were a mix of various shades of blue, changing as the light hit them. His hair was cut in a fringe and appeared to be black, but his eyebrows were a lighter color, suggesting he dyed it. He was rather tall, Dan noticed, quite possibly even taller than the young writer himself.

It wasn't until he noticed the man giving him a strange look that Dan realized he had been staring. "S-sorry, what?" Dan sputtered out, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks.

The good-looking man chuckled. "I was asking if you had any books on art?"

"Um, yeah! Follow me." Dan beckoned for Phil to follow him, winding his way through the small shop to a back corner labeled _Art and Photography_.

"So um, what type of art books were you looking for? The Dan inquired, forcing himself to tear his gaze from his customer and look at the shelves.

"Something on various styles of painting maybe? I'm just browsing."

Dan skimmed the bookshelves, his fingers lightly brushing all of the covers until he found one he deemed suitable.

"Ah! What about this?" Dan pulled out a colorful volume.

"Art styles through the ages?" Phil read the cover, briskly thumbing through the book. "Yeah, thanks. This looks great."

The two proceeded to the checkout, Dan almost subconsciously ringing up the book.

"So, are you new around here? I don't recognize you." Dan asked lightly, trying to make conversation.

"Yeah, I just moved from a few towns over. Oh, I'm Phil by the way, Phil Lester!" The ebony-haired man smiled, pulling out some money.

"I'm Dan Howell." Dan looked up at Phil, giving him a polite smile.

They fell into silence as Dan began bagging the book. Desperate to learn more about this Phil Lester, Dan made another feeble attempt at conversation. "So... are you an artist?"

Phil laughed nervously, readjusting his hair. "Oh, well—I um, I sometimes paint, but you know, I'm not that good or anything, it's—it's more of a hobby..."

The brunet chuckled, handing Phil his book. "I'm sure you're amazing."

Phil said nothing, but Dan could see the ghost of a smile creeping onto his face.

"Will that be all for you today?" Dan asked as part of his standard procedure.

"Um, yeah thanks! Although, you don't happen to know of a good place to get lunch around here, do you?" Phil inquired, glancing out the window.

"Oh yeah, my friend Louise owns a café down the road, you should check it out!" Dan supplied him with one of the business cards Louise had given him a while ago. "If you say that Dan sent you then she'll give you a discount," he added as an afterthought

"Thanks!" Phil grinned, turning to leave.

"Have a nice day!" Dan called out as Phil swung the door open.

"You too!" Phil turned around, "I'll be sure to stop by again sometime!"

Dan nodded, his gaze remaining on Phil until the tiny shop door had swung closed behind him.


	3. Ch 3: Awakening

**A/N: So I was planning on making this chapter longer but this is the only chance I have to upload so you guys will have to wait for the next part, sorry.**

 **April 17th**

The day went by rather swiftly, unsurprising considering Dan had spent most of the day in his head. Although he worried about money (as usual) he spent a good deal of his time thinking about Phil. He knew it was silly to spend so much time thinking about someone he had only talked to for about five minutes, but he was just so…captivating.

The small grandfather clock behind Dan's desk let out eight chimes, signaling the end of Dan's work day. With a thankful sigh, he got up and walked to the door, arranging to lock up. Glancing out the window, he noticed that the sky had become a dark ashen color, billowing clouds swirling around threateningly. They usually didn't get storms this time of year, but when they did they were relatively severe. Dan never minded the storms; he enjoyed them actually. One of his favorite things to do was to curl up with his typewriter and write, listening to the orchestra of thunder and stormy gales outside. Maybe this storm was just what he needed for inspiration.

After locking up, Dan began climbing wearily up the stairs, making his way into his trivial, but cozy, flat. Once there, he quickly changed into a pair of black sweatpants and a gray t-shirt then headed to the kitchen.

Grabbing a box of leftover pizza from when Louise came over, Dan shoved it in the oven carelessly, pressing the 'reheat' button.

Several minutes later, the pizza was properly warmed and Dan was sat down in front of his typewriter, watching the thunderous bolts of lightning shoot across the sky. The storm was really starting to grow, and large, heavy raindrops had begun splattering against his window.

Dan turned his gaze back to his typewriter, and began typing, trying to piece together the idea that had formed in his head.

 _Bryan looked up at the dark castle looming up ahead. He was utterly clueless on how he ended up where he was, but he was even-_

Dan stopped typing and leaned backwards, closing his eyes.

He had no idea where this story was going.

He ripped the paper out of the typewriter, throwing it behind his head and into the small, dying fire.

' _Why can't I think of anything?!'_ He sighed, listening to the thunder rumbling overhead.

Dan stood up, walking to the window and looking out onto the dark, watery streets.

"C'mon Dan," He coaxed himself. "Just think of _one little idea!_ It's not that hard to-"

 _Knock, knock, knock._

Dan's thoughts were interrupted by a loud, urgent knock on the door.

 _Knock, knock, knock._

The boy licked his lips uncertainly, debating on whether or not he should go answer it.

"Who the _hell_ would be at the door in a middle of a storm?" Dan silently asked himself, heading down the steps. It then occurred to him that those were possibly the most notorious 'famous last words' in every horror movie, ever.

Dan stepped down cautiously into the dark bookstore walking over to the nearest lamp and flicking the light on. The lamp illuminated the room just enough for him to make out a pale face outside the door window, staring back at Dan.

"Dan?" A muffled voice called, straining to be heard above the storm.

It took Dan a moment for him to recognize the voice.

 _Phil?_

Dan hurried over to the door, unlocking it and opening it quickly. Blown by the wind, the door swung almost all the way open, Dan catching it only just in time. A very wet, shivering Phil took a step into the closed shop, brushing his dripping hair out of his face.

"Phil?" Dan looked at Phil, a puzzled look on his face.

"Yeah, I'm really sorry to bother you, Dan. I just- my car broke down, and I tried calling my friend to come and get me but my phone died and I didn't know what to do so I walked around for a while until I ended up back here and I saw the lights on upstairs so I just prayed that it was you and knocked on your door, because I didn't know what else to do and-"

Dan cut off Phil's rapid babbling. "Hey, It's alright, just calm down." Dan spoke softly, "Now what do you need? A phone? A place to stay...?"

Phil shrugged, looking down at the floor nervously. "I-I don't know. I guess if you wouldn't mind me using your phone for a minute?"

"Of course!" Dan exclaimed. "Here, follow me." Dan took Phil gently by the arm and escorted him upstairs.

 **(once again sorry for the abrupt ending, next part coming around Tuesday or Wednesday!)**


	4. Ch 4: Sojourn

April 17th

Dan led Phil up the stairs, noting to later clean up the trail of water that visitor left behind them.

"I'm sorry about the clutter," Dan muttered as they walked into the flat.

"Oh, it's fine!" Phil reassured him. "It makes it cozy if anything..." he spoke softly, talking to himself more than the brunette man in front of him.

"Take this." Dan tossed Phil a fluffy towel, which the man quickly caught and wrapped around his shoulders.

"Thanks." Phil shivered.

Dan took a few strides across the room, grabbing his phone and turning back to Phil. "Here." He unlocked his phone and opened up the keypad for Phil to call his friend.

"T-Thanks." Phil gave Dan a grateful smile, dialing his friend's number.

"I'll go make us some coffee," The young author decided, turning towards the kitchen door.

"Oh no, you don't have to do that..." Phil politely tried to decline Dan's offer, but he was having none of it.

"You're freezing; I'm making you coffee!" Before Phil could object, Dan hurried off to the kitchen.

...

A few moments later, Dan returned, two steaming mugs in his hands. Phil was pacing around the opposite side of the room, having a rather intense conversation over the phone.

"Look, Al, I'm really sorry, but _please!_

I _know, I know!_

You will? Oh, thank you so much!

Ok, see you in a bit, bye." Phil ended the call and set Dan's phone down, running a hand through his hair and sighing.

"Here's your coffee" Dan's voice pulled Phil out of his thoughts, causing him to jump.

"Oh, thank you!" Phil took the cup graciously, giving Dan a smile.

They stood in an awkward silence for a few moments, Dan sneaking the occasional glance at Phil.

"How can he be so effortlessly attractive?" Dan wondered to himself, watching Phil sip lightly at his coffee. "So, what did your friend say?" He asked, pulling himself out of his thoughts.

"He agreed to come pick me up...but he's at least an hour away. Is it okay if I stay here until he arrives?" Phil bit his lip nervously, looking at Dan.

"Oh yeah, that' s fine! I wasn't really doing anything important anyway." Dan smiled reassuringly at Phil, trying to ignore the feeling of excitement that had nestled its way into his stomach.

Phil sighed in relief. "I literally cannot thank you enough!"

"It's my pleasure." Dan grinned.

Phil beamed, pulling the towel tighter around his shoulders.

"Oh, that reminds me!" Dan exclaimed, standing up quickly. "Stay here, I'll be right back."

Dan hurried off into his room, quickly rummaging through the old oak draws of his dresser until he found a pair of black sweatpants. He tossed the clothes onto his bed as he made his way to his closet, browsing through his t-shirts until he found a plain white one that he thought would fit Phil. He began to walk into the lounge but quickly stopped in front of a mirror, making sure his hair looked alright.

"Here." Dan walked out of his room with the clothes in his hands. "If you're going to be here for a while you might as well be comfortable.

"No, Dan, you've already done so much for me, I'll be fine!"

Dan just rolled his eyes, a small smile played on his face. "Phil, you're going to catch a cold! And besides, you're dripping water."

Phil blushed slightly, muttering apologies.

"It's fine, now get changed!" Dan handed the ebony-haired man the clothes, motioning to the nearest bathroom. Well, the _only_ bathroom.

Once Phil was out of the room, Dan made a quick attempt to tidy up.

…

By the time the whiny creaking of the bathroom door broke the quiet in the flat, Dan thought it was safe to say the room looked reasonably cleaner. And by 'reasonably cleaner' he meant that most of the assorted clothes and candy wrappers laying on the ground had been swept under the timeworn couch.

"Thanks for lending me the clothes, the shirt is a bit snug, but it fits well enough." Dan heard Phil call out as he paced out into the lounge.

"You're welcome." Dan finished hanging up a coat in the closet. "I'll put your wet clothes in the um…" Dan faltered as he turned around to face Phil.

The shirt he had given Phil was a bit small for him, but it only showed off his figure more. His hair was still mostly straight, but the rain had caused certain strands to become wavy or tangled, giving him a rugged appearance.

Being a writer, Dan tried to think of more unique and elegant ways to describe things, he enjoyed using the power of words to romanticize ordinary objects. But now his mind had gone mostly blank and all he could seem to think of was, "Oh my gosh, he's hot."

"Erm, Dan?" Phil waved slightly, pulling Dan out of his trance.

"Oh, um, sorry I just- I just um, lost my train of thought..." Dan stammered out, a flush rapidly coloring his cheeks.

Phil just laughed quietly, but there was an unmistakable smirk of amusement in his eyes.

"I-I'll put your wet clothes in the dryer for you." Not waiting for Phil's consent, he snatched his old clothes out of his hands and quickly strode into the laundry room.

…

Phil watched Dan hurriedly shuffle out of the room, clearly embarrassed. A quiet chuckle escaped his lips as he sat down on the edge of the couch. He scanned the room, silently analyzing all the contents. Phil was an observer, always looking for something to spark an idea for his next painting. His eyes finally landed on an old typewriter sitting by the window, a messy heap of paper surrounding it. He hesitated for a moment—he usually didn't like prying, but there was something so fascinating about Dan, and he couldn't help but want to learn more about him. He took several steps towards the typewriter, glancing down at some of the papers surrounding it. Most of them contained a hastily written scrawl of notes, but one of the documents caught his eye. Stooping over, he tilted the paper so that he could clearly see it.

"My Demons"The title read, sparking a burning curiosity in Phil's mind.

 ** _The darkness clawed at my mind, daring me to give up and fall into its cold, dead grasp. I tried to escape; to run as far as I could from the grotesque monsters lurking where only the daftest of people dared to adventure. I tried to free myself from the hellish mental stage I had so foolishly allowed myself to fall into. But then again, even the most valiant and insolent of individuals would-_**

"What are you doing?"

Phil spun around, feeling like a child who had just been caught sneaking cookies before dinner. "I- I was just..."

Dan glanced down at what he had been reading and his eyes widened. "Oh, don't tell me you read that! It's horrible!"

It was Phil's turn to look surprised. "What do you mean it's horrible?! This is amazing!" He exclaimed, looking back down at the paper. "I didn't know you were such a gifted writer!"

Dan blushed. "Th-thanks I guess..." He mumbled, looking down at his feet.

"I'm serious Dan, this is incredible." Phil scanned the rest of the page, reading until it stopped.

Dan stood next to Phil awkwardly, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "It's not _that_ good, it's just an idea I wrote down then never finished..." He trailed off awkwardly.

"It _is_ that good Dan." Phil smiled. "I'd love to see some of your other work sometime!"

Dan smiled sheepishly, scratching his head. "Yeah..." They trailed off into an uncomfortable silence.

A large clap of thunder quaked the building, causing both men to jump.

"So," Dan began, the rumbling dying off, "since you're going to be living in my apartment for an hour, tell me more about yourself."

"Well," the ebony haired man began as the pair took a seat on the comfy, patchwork couch. "My name is Philip Michael Lester, but if you haven't already guessed I prefer to be called by Phil, and I'm twenty-eight... How old are you?" Phil inquired, to which Dan replied, "I'm twenty-four, I should be in my last year of university, but it just didn't work out for me..." Dan trailed off, a hint of shame and embarrassment in his voice. He knew he had good reasoning to drop out of school, but he was still worried that people would get the wrong idea of him and think he was just lazy, or stupid even.

"What do you mean by that?" Phil asked.

Dan hesitated, carefully thinking through his words. "Well, when I graduated high school, I had no idea what I wanted to do. I made the horrible decision of picking law, which I literally had no interest in whatsoever. Because of choosing something so dull and tedious, I ended up being stressed and confused by the whole subject. I spent countless nights staying up until four in the morning studying for tests that I would only end up failing. So finally, after asking several friends for advice, they agreed I should take a break year. It was during that break year that I started writing a lot, not just the short stories I had done in the past. Now I just figure that there really isn't a point in going back. I have a job and have chosen a new career path, I feel like it would do more bad than good to me right now." Dan chose to not add in the part about how he couldn't afford it anyway.

Phil nodded sympathetically, giving Dan an understanding smile. "I think you made the right choice. It sounds like you have your life organized out now a lot more than you did then."

Dan bowed in agreement before querying his next question. "So, speaking of uni, what did you study in college?"

A small spark seemed to leap into Phil's eyes, though Dan figured it could just be a trick of the dim light. "I studied several different branches of art... I hoped that I might be able to get a job painting for people, you know, special requests or whatnot, but it didn't work out. Now I work at the Nightly Glass **(A bar I made up)** every other evening from five to eleven o'clock. Although I still paint in my spare time."

The younger boy thought it was a bit strange that his only job was working at a bar. Judging by his clothes he seemed pretty well off. He decided not to ask about it, it didn't seem like a very appropriate topic for two people who had just met. Dan decided on a simpler question instead.

"So, What books do you like?"

 **A/N: sorry this is a really abrupt ending, the chapter ended up coming well over 1k words and I'm trying to keep these short. I promise actual relationship related stuff will happen between D &P soon.**


	5. Ch 5: Attraction

**A/N: So I know I didn't update last weekend, but I'm not going to update Fix me until next weekend, sorry.**

 **April 17th**

The duo had spent the hour discussing various books and movies they enjoyed. They were both quite surprised to learn how much they had in common.

"So, you've watched _Death Note_ , right?" Phil asked. They had drifted over to the topic of anime.

"Yeah, I really—" Dan was cut short by a knocking from downstairs.

"That would be Al," Phil stated, standing up with a sigh.

"Oh." Dan cursed himself for sounding so obviously disappointed. He couldn't deny he'd miss the other man's company.

...

True to his word, Dan followed the sound of voices downstairs, a warm bundle of clothes in his hand. By the time he reached the first story, he could see that Phil was having a rather intense conversation with a brown-haired man standing by the door.

"Look, I'm sorry okay? I'll pay you back for the gas money!"

The very pissed-off looking man—who appeared to be in his pajamas—just scowled in response "Fine, but you owe me an hour of your life; I'm missing my TV show..."

"I-um-I got your clothes," Dan broke up the argument quickly, the two me jumping in surprise.

Phil took the bundle out of Dan's hands; flashing him a smile. "Thanks!"

"Yeah um, no problem," The younger boy replied.

"Well, I really need to get going. I'll bring your clothes by tomorrow!" Phil glanced down at the borrowed outfit. "And I know I've said it before, but really, thank you _so_ much for letting me stay here!"

"Yeah, it's fine!" Dan hesitated slightly before adding "I enjoyed your company, we should meet up again sometime," He felt his face redden, praying he hadn't gotten the wrong idea. What if Phil was just being friendly? He could be in a relationship, or even straight!

"I um...I enjoyed your company too," Phil muttered, appearing-for the first time this night-flustered.

Al stood by the door still, yet his frown had been replaced by a smug smirk. "C'mon Phillip, let's get you home."

Phil gave Dan a small smile before following Al out the door.

...

"Phil Lester, you are absolutely smitten. How long have you even known this guy? A few hours?" The minute the shop door had sealed, Al had begun pestering Phil about his crush.

"I'm not _smitten,_ " Phil insisted stubbornly, sitting down in the passenger seat of Al's car. "I just think he's kind of cute is all."

"Just ask him out! He clearly likes you." Al cranked up the car.

"I don't even like him that much, I just think he's attractive! Besides, he's probably straight," Phil fiddled with the hem of the borrowed shirt-which he enjoyed wearing more than he'd like to admit.

Al gave a bark of laughter, shaking his head. "Considering the way he was looking at you I doubt his sexuality will be an issue. Just give him a try Philly."

"Don't call me Philly..." Phil muttered, watching the silhouette of his new friend as he turned off the lamp, submerging the shop into darkness.

 **April 18** **th**

Dan woke up early the next morning, blinking groggily as the warm beams of morning sunlight ruptured through the cracks on his blinds.

After contemplating whether it was really worth it to get up and start the day, he sighed and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

Dan shivered as the cool morning air crept around his bare chest, making him long for the warmth of his bed more than ever. Dan shuffled across the red rug, brushing the curtains aside. He swung the window open, leaning out and taking a deep breath of the crisp air.

Dan felt the tiny town of Windmere was quite underrated.He stared out at the empty streets, the sleepy town still waking up. There was little traffic, and the only noise to be heard was the singing of birds. It truly was the perfect location to live in, particularly so for a writer.

The chiming of his usual morning alarm interrupted the still air, alerting Dan he should begin getting dressed.

...

Dan stared back at his reflection in the mirror. Although he pretended not to care, he was overly aware that Phil would probably stop by to drop off the borrowed clothes. He knew it was dumb to get all dressed up for a small conversation, but Dan had taken a liking to the man and really wanted to impress him. "Phil was just one of those people it was impossible not to like," Dan decided as he straightened out his light gray t-shirt, making sure it fell evenly over the top of his black skinny jeans.

After a few minutes of careful inspection, Dan figured he looked alright. He downed the rest of his tea then hurried downstairs.

...

The most part of the morning passed rather quietly, the only customers being a college student looking for cheap textbooks and an old lady buying The Hunger Games for her granddaughter.

It wasn't until 11:26 that Phil came.

The door swung open and a tall figure stepped in. "Hey," Dan smiled sweetly, looking up.

"Hi!" Phil beamed, closing the door behind him. "I brought your clothes." He handed Dan a plastic shopping bag.

Dan took the bag, setting it behind the counter.

"Thanks again, I mean I know I've said it a lot but-"

Dan chuckled, cutting Phil off. "It's fine, really. Don't worry about it!" Dan reassured the ebony haired man.

Phil gave a small nod before they both fell into silence.

Dan noticed Phil's posture looked stiffer than it had a minute ago.

"I-um.." Phil cleared his throat, "Would you um... It's getting close to lunch and I was just wondering, would you um, would you like t-to go get lunch maybe?" Phil bit his lip in anticipation. "I-I mean you mentioned wanting to meet up again and I just thought... um... yeah..."

It took Dan a moment to fully register that Phil had just asked him out to lunch. "Yeah! I mean, I would love to!" Dan grinned happily, causing the other boy to let out a nervous sigh.

"How does Lou's sound?" Phil inquired.

"Yeah, sounds great!" Dan beamed, the butterflies in his stomach swarming around violently.

"So, when should I meet you there?" Phil asked, a lively glint in his eyes as he looked down at the brunet.

"I get off at twelve."

 **A/N: I think I may start making the chapter slightly longer, what do you think?**


	6. Ch 6: Luncheon

**A/N: Sorry this is very very whoops lmao**

 **Also, ik that I mentioned Phil is taller than Dan but for some reason, I still imagine them as the way they look in 2014-15? What age do you see them as?**

 **April 18th**

Dan had a slight spring in his steps as he made his way to Lou's. Of course, you could hardly blame him; he was on his way to lunch with Phil Lester. It would be a lie for him to deny the fact that he had spent roughly half an hour in front of a mirror, trying to prefect his appearance. He straightened his hair again and changed his ring t-shirt for a slightly less casual one; it was a plain white V-neck which he had carefully paired with a black jacket, even though it wasn't that cold.

He was practically tremoring with anticipation by the time he made it to the café. Inhaling deeply, Dan pushed the door open, happily breathing in the wonderful aroma of freshly baked bread and tea.

The door swung closed behind him as he walked into the room, looking around for any indication of Phil; who he finally spotted at a back table.

"Hey." The brunet smiled as he approached his new friend.

Phil looked up from his phone, a grin splitting his face as his eyes met Dan's brown ones. "Hi!"

"You picked a nice table," Dan commented as he sat down in the booth across from Phil, glancing out the window onto the old cobblestone streets.

"Thanks, I guess." Phil chuckled glancing out the window.

The conversation trailed off rather awkwardly, so Dan was grateful when Louise came over to get their orders.

"Hey, Dan! What can I get for you two today?" Louise queried, bouncing cheerfully on the balls of her feet.

"I'll have a coke and chicken sandwich with fries," Dan ordered his usual favorite off the menu.

"And I'll take a hamburger with fries and lemonade." Phil repeated off the menu, giving Louise a small smile.

Louise scribbled down the order, tearing off the sheet of paper.

The two boys had expected her to go and get their food, so they were slightly startled when she asked, "So are you guys dating?"

"Louise!" Dan scolded, nearly choking. Phil's face was beet-red.

"What? You guys look so cute together!" She squealed, clapping her hands together enthusiastically.

Dan groaned, hiding his face in his hands. He truly did love Louise, but she had always had an annoyingly strong interest in his love life.

Louise burst into a fit of giggles as she watched her friend practically wither up in embarrassment. "Relax dear, I'm only joking!"

Dan muttered something incoherent into his hands.

The blonde-haired girl just laughed before returning to the kitchen.

"So..." Phil made a feeble attempt to start a conversation, his skin tone returning to a more natural shade of pink. "You look nice."

The compliment only caused Dan to blush harder as he muttered a quiet thanks.

Luckily, the embarrassing moment soon passed and conversation began to come naturally.

"So how long have you been painting?" Dan inquired, taking a bite of his sandwich; which had only just arrived.

"Oh gosh," Phil muttered, taking a sip from his drink. "Since I was a teenager, if not younger. Of course, back then I wasn't nearly as experienced. What about you? When did you start writing?" The ebony haired man asked, his eyes shining.

"Sorry, what did you ask me?" Dan asked, shaking his head slightly and flushing as he realized he had been so concentrated on Phil's eyes he hadn't heard anything he had said.

Phil just laughed as he repeated his question. "When did you start writing?"

"Well when I was probably around thirteen I started writing poetry, then that lead me to become interested in being an actual author," Dan recalled his early writing career, smiling back on the memories.

Phil smiled softly as he watched a nostalgic look cross over the younger boy's face. "I really want to read some more of your work, what I've seen so far is really good."

Dan blushed deeply, looking down at his hands in his lap. "It's really not that good, that was just an idea I scribbled down... I really don't—"

"Hey" Phil gently hooked his finger under Dan's chin, tilting his face up so that their eyes met. "It was bloody great." Dan blushed even darker, biting his lip to hide a smile.

"Th-thanks I guess..." He stuttered.

Phil let out a small chuckle, tracing his finger lightly over Dan's jawline before pulling his hand back.

At this point, Dan was practically a tomato. "I-I um.."

Phil just laughed as he watched as Dan stuttered helplessly. "The food is amazing, isn't it?" He asked smugly, taking a bite of a fry.

"Yeah...Oh, Yeah! It's- It's great." Dan smiled, grateful for the change of subject.

The two carried on conversation, mostly switching between the topics of their careers and how good of a cook Louise was.

It wasn't for another twenty minutes until Dan glanced at his phone and was rather disappointed to see his lunch break was nearly over. "I have to get back to work soon..." Dan sighed.

"Could I have the honor of walking you back?" Phil offered, quickly placing a check on the table (Dan was grateful) before standing up and offering the man his hand.

"You may," Dan smiled as he took Phil's hand and was lead out of the shop.

Neither one of them noticed the smirk that rested on Louise's lips as she watched the pair walk back outside, their hands linked.

...

Phil was still holding Dan's hand firmly as they walked down the street, not that Dan minded one bit.

"Thanks for lunch," Dan said, giving Phil a small smile.

"It was my pleasure." Phil smiled, giving Dan's hand a slight squeeze. "We should go out for lunch again sometime."

"Certainly," Dan replied, restraining himself from leaping with joy.

The two boys enjoyed the peaceful walk back to the small bookstore. Few words were exchanged, but sometimes words are not needed to express feelings.

...

The pair finally reached the front of the book store; Phil reluctantly let go of Dan's hand.

"I'll um, see you later I guess..." Dan muttered shyly, casting Phil a hopeful smile.

"Wouldn't have it any other way." Phil winked, causing Dan to giggle and blush slightly.

"Hey um, can I…Can I get your number?" Dan asked nervously.

The young artist just grinned, pulling out his phone and giving it to Dan expectantly.

Dan saved his number then handed Phil's phone back to him, looking rather accomplished.

"I'll see you later then, Mr. Howell," Phil said formerly, holding out his hand.

"Indeed, Mr. Lester." Dan countered, shaking Phil's hand. He let out a sharp yelp as he was pulled into a tight hug. The young writer hadn't fully registered what had happened until Phil was already walking down the sidewalk, away from Dan.

Dan couldn't help but smile as he turned to unlock the door. Of course, you could hardly blame him—especially considering he just had lunch with Phil Lester


	7. Ch 7: Invoice

**A/N: ...I never thought I would open this document again.**

 **But here I go**

 **Screw it**

 **April 18** **th**

Dan stepped into the shop cheerily, twirling the set of small silver keys around his index finger. He truly felt that nothing could ruin his blissful mood at the moment.

Unfortunately, he was wrong.

It only took Dan a few minutes to find the mail, which had been messily shoved through the mail slot in the window.

Humming contently, Dan picked up the stack of papers. He began to lazily thumb through them, glancing briefly at the titles. Everything was fine until he got to a certain letter. This letter was what cause Dan's wonderful mood to shatter around him.

A bill.

No, a _fine._

With tremoring hands, Dan picked the letter up, nervously tearing the top off.

Mr. Howell,

This is your **final notice** regarding your rent. You have failed to pay your rent for the past three months. If you are unable to pay your rent of 1,500 pounds plus the additional 400 pound fine **( 2476 dollars total for us Americans)** by May 29th, you will be evicted.

If there are any problems, you may contact me:

Phone- 123-456-7890

Email: mandybarns

Have a nice day,

Miranda Barns

Dan stared in shock at the letter. 1,900 pounds?! There was no way he could pay off all that in seven weeks!

Letting out a heavy sigh, Dan slumped back into his chair, running a hand through his hair.

 _This is not good._

 _This is in fact, terrible._ Dan thought, re-reading the letter in his hand.

 _I'm going to lose the shop._

 _I'm going to lose my home..._

The young writer's mind was flooded with panic as he stared blankly at the letter.

"Dammit!" Dan crushed the paper, flinging it at the desk and standing up quick enough for his chair to fall over.

As Dan paced around the small bookstore, he began to feel a sense of panic he hadn't felt in quite a while. He kicked over a small table with a few books on top, the contents went scattering across the floor.

 _Maybe if you weren't such a bad writer you could have made a living off of that._

Dan's heart was like a drum in his ears, its beats coursing through him in waves.

 _You're going to be homeless._

 _You're going to be broke._

Dan stumbled back against the wall, needing something for support. The familiar feeling of the slightly warped walls gave Dan a nice sense of reassurance.

"Okay Dan, breath..." He forced himself to take in deep breaths. He hadn't any anxiety issues since he was fifteen.

It took him several minutes, but he finally managed to calm down, and his heavy, panicked breaths turned into sobs as he slid down the wall and buried his head in his hands.

...

"Phil!" Katy stuck her head in the kitchen, where Phil was washing dishes.

"Yeah?" The raven-haired man dried off the shot glass he was washing, setting it on the counter.

"Anna left early, we're one short out on the bar."

Phil pulled off his wet apron and got a new, dry one. "Coming!"

"Here," Katy handed Phil a notepad. "You get the poor lad over there his drink." She motioned to a man sitting at the end of the bar, who had his face in his hands and appeared to be crying.

Phil nodded and hurriedly walked over to where the man was sitting. "Hi, can I get you something to drink?" He asked cautiously.

The young adult sat up, a surprised look on his face. "Phil... I forgot you worked here..." he sniffed.

"Oh my gosh... Dan, what's wrong?" Phil asked with concern, staring at the man he had seen happily eating lunch with him only hours earlier.

"I'll tell you in a minute." Dan sniffed, "Just get me something strong, please."

Phil turned around and grabbed few bottles, mixing the contents together in a small cup and giving it to Dan.

The brunet grabbed the cup and downed it in one go, wincing as the potent liquid stung his throat.

"Now, tell me what happened," Phil demanded, refilling Dan's glass.

Dan pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and slid it towards Phil. "I've gotten myself into such a mess, Phil."

Phil picked the paper up, smoothing down the edges down and quickly reading over it.

A sense of shame washed over Dan as he looked at the shock on his new friend's face. He couldn't think of anything more humiliating than having to tell Phil he might lose his house and job because he was too broke to pay for it.

"Oh, Dan..." Phil handed him back the document. "I can help you know, I could lend you some money or a place to stay if you need—"

"Oh no, I couldn't," Dan quickly cut Phil off. "I couldn't ask you that...I got myself into this mess, I'll find some way to get out of it."

"Please, Dan," Phil set his hand down so that their fingers were overlapping. "I don't want to come off as some stuck up snob, but money is really not an issue for me and it is no trouble for me to give you anything you need," Phil bit his lip. He hated talking about his financial circumstances, but he needed to let Dan know that he was there to help.

"Phil, really, I couldn't," Dan's gaze flickered between their hands and Phil's eyes.

The ebony haired man sighed, realizing his attempt right now would be fruitless, but he would find some way to help Dan. "Okay, but if you ever need _anything,"_ Phil gently curled his fingers around Dan's. "please _, tell me._ "

Dan nodded, sniffing slightly. "Okay..."

"Oh, and your drinks are on the house tonight." Phil gave his friend a warm-hearted wink.

Dan looked like he was about to protest but hesitated before smiling. "Thank you."

 **A/N: I would have written more but I have to sleep, sorry.**

 **Hope you liked it ^.^**


	8. Ch 8: Perturb

**A/N: GUESS WHO'S BACK?**

 **I've decided to continue this story!**

 **I know I already uploaded this chapter, but I went back and edited this and all of the other chapters. You don't have to reread them if you don't want, but you can :)**

"Dan, you really shouldn't have had that last drink," Phil muttered.

"Shhhh, I'm not sure what I was upset about and that's all that matters," Dan murmured sleepily.

The writer had ended up staying longer than anticipated, and it was nearly two in the morning when he stumbled out of the bar, leaning dependently on a sober and amused Phil.

"You sure will remember tomorrow," Phil joked, shifting slightly under the other man's weight.

"Shhhhh!" Dan shushed Phil even louder.

Phil laughed. "Okay, okay!"

They only made it a few steps before Dan stopped. "Phil?" Dan grabbed the artist by the sides of his face, leaning close enough to Phil that he could smell the alcohol on his breath.

"...Yes?"

"Your eyes..." Dan mumbled. " _They're gorgeous."_

Phil let out a loud laugh, blushing only a little bit. "Come on Dan, let's get you home,"

..

By the time the duo arrived at Dan's tiny flat, Phil had concluded that Dan was a _very_ flirtatious drunk.

"Dan, I need you to unlock the door," Phil urged Dan.

"Philllllll," Dan drawled out, giggling slightly.

Phil let out a tired sigh, mentally preparing himself for the bad pick-up line he knew he was about to receive. "Yes, Dan?"

"I don't have a library card, but do you mind if I check you out?"

Chuckling quietly, Phil shook his head. "Sure, Dan. Now, Can you unlock your door?"

Dan nodded but continued to stand still.

"Dan"

"Huh?"

"The door?"

"Oh!" Dan jumped, reaching into his pocket and handing his friend a beaten up key ring.

Phil unlocked the door and ushered Dan in, setting the keys on his desk. Let's get you upstairs, okay?

Dan nodded, took a few staggering steps forward, and ran into a wall. "Oww, what the fu-"

Trying not to laugh at poor Dan's misfortune, Phil rushed forward to help the younger man.

After the strenuous task of getting Dan up the stairs, Phil managed to locate Dan's room. It had a similar style to the rest of the flat: the furniture was all made out of a dark oak wood, and the bed sheets were a deep red color. Phil managed to get his drunk friend to lay down and pulled the covers over him.

"Goodnight, Dan. I'll see you tomorrow," Phil brushed a strand of hair out of the other boys face.

Dan mumbled something Phil didn't understand, then rolled over and fell asleep.

Smiling to himself, Phil walked out of Dan's room.

.

Dan woke up the next morning with possibly one of the worst headaches he had ever had. The boy groaned, propping himself up and running a hand through his hair. He was still wearing his skinny jeans, and painful intentions had been left in his skin. He tried to sit up some more but deemed it a bad idea when a wave of nausea washed over him. Dan grabbed the trashcan closest to him and vomited.

Not wanting to bother with the mess, the boy shoved the bin to the other side of the room; he'd deal with it when he finished showering. Dan noticed a glass of water sitting on his bedside table and quickly grabbed it, downing half of the drink. He was relieved to get the awful taste of stomach acid out of his mouth. Setting the glass back down on the oak nightstand, Dan noticed a note sitting next to it. The writer didn't remember much from last night, so he was confused as to who it was from.

 _Dear Dan,_

 _You're probably really regretting those last two shots now, aren't you? I managed to help you get back home last night around two in the morning. Your keys are on your work desk by the way._

 _In case you don't recall my offer from last night, if you ever need money, I'm more than happy to help._

 _Hope to see you soon,_

 _-Phil :)_

 _P.S. You're very funny when you're drunk...how many pick-up lines do you have memorized?_

Dan groaned, dropping the letter and putting his head in his hands. The man was well aware how forward he could be when he was drunk, and considering he already had a tiny crush on Phil when he was sober, he dreaded to think how he may have acted under the influence.

Trying not to dwell on the matter, Dan stumbled off into the bathroom, hoping he could drown out the events of last night with a hot shower.

 **A/N: I promise the chapters will start getting longer after this!**


	9. Ch 9 : Corsage

**A/N: This is a bit later than I would like it to be but I had writer's block oops.**

 **Sorry it's a bit shorter than usual, chapters will be longer in the future!**

The little bookstore opened an hour late today, mostly due to Dan's throbbing headache. In fact, his hangover was so bad that if it weren't for the many bills looming over his head, he probably would have taken the day off. The young entrepreneur had just flipped the window sign around when he received a text from Phil, which he reluctantly opened.

 _Hey Dan! How do you feel?_

Dan plopped down in his desk chair, typing out a response. **_Like I've been hit by a bus._**

 _Considering how many shots you had, I'm really not surprised… I had to practically carry you home_

Dan groaned, resisting the urge to slam his head down on the desk. He hadn't gotten this drunk in a long time. He had been a pretty big drinker when he was in university but managed to tone it down after he dropped out. Of course, this was partly because he couldn't afford to waste money on alcohol.

 ** _Yeah, haha…sorry about anything I said/did…_**

 _Oh don't worry about it! It was quite entertaining, actually. How do you know so many pickup lines?_

Dan was unbelievably thankful Phil wasn't there to see how much he was blushing.

 ** _I don't even want to know what I said_**

 _Don't worry about it :)_

Dan began typing a response but stopped mid-word when he received a second text.

 _In fact, I thought it was enticing_

At this, the poor writer nearly burst into flames. Was Phil flirting with him, or was he just joking around? What _had_ he said to Phil last night?

 ** _Oh?_** Dan responded, unsure of what else he could say.

 _Definitely ;)_

Dan's heart practically leaped out of his chest; it was amazing how two simple characters could give someone so many indescribable emotions. How was Dan even supposed to respond to this? Thankfully, Phil texted again before he had to think of a counter.

 _Ugh, I have to go to this meeting thing for my parents, but I'll text you later :)_

 ** _Yeah, ttyl ^.^_**

It wasn't until the young man set his phone down that he realized a small quiver had developed in his hands. Dan groaned, tossing his phone on the counter. "Damn you, Lester…"

…

Despite how horrible Dan felt, he was glad he hadn't taken the day off. Sometime around noon, a group of middle-aged women had dropped by and bought seventy pounds worth of cooking books. While that was almost nothing compared to the fine he had to pay, it was a start.

Thanks to the slow morning, Dan had retained plenty of time to think about the lousy situation he was in. He had known for quite some time that his beloved bookstore wasn't nearly successful enough to help him pay off the debts he owed; his only chance of even coming anywhere close to the price he owed was through the writing contest. Hell, even if he did win the 700 pounds, it was still less than half of the 1,560 pounds he owed….

Dan was yanked out of his thoughts when the door swung open and a lanky teenager walked into the shop with a rectangular box in his hands.

"Dan Howell?" He asked in a nasally voice. Dan noticed he looked rather awkward and out-of-place, much like he wasn't quite sure where he was or if it was the right location.

"Erm, yeah, that's me," Dan quirked an eyebrow at the boy.

"Oh um, these are for you," The boy set the box on Dan's desk, almost immediately retreating to the door, "Have a nice day."

Before Dan could respond, he was gone.

Sighing, he returned his attention to the long, cardboard box in front of him. It was roughly two feet long and wrapped in a plain, brown paper. The only decoration was a silky blue ribbon that had been wrapped long-ways around the box and tied in a bow. Dan grabbed one of the loose ends of the ribbon and pulled; it came undone in one swift and satisfying motion. Tossing the ribbon to the side, Dan lifted the top of the box off and was immediately hit with the sweet aroma of flowers. Inside the box was a stunning bouquet of violet roses, the same silky, blue ribbon tied carefully around the stems.

A soft gasp escaped Dan's lips as he reached to pick them up. As he lifted the flowers out of their case, a small note fluttered to the ground. Careful not to damage the boutonniere, the young man gently laid them on the counter before stooping to get the note. Dan examined the small card, standing back up. _"Allen's Bouquets_ " was written in fancy cursive on the front. Dan flipped open the card and read the message inside.

 _Roses are purple_

 _You can write_

 _Meet me at Lou's for dinner tonight?_

 _-Phil_

Dan's face lit up in a smile as he read the note a few more times. Pulling out his phone, the young writer opened his text messages and typed a quick reply to Phil.

 _Ribbons are blue_

 _These flowers smell like heaven_

 _Meet you there, thirty after seven_

Scanning over the text in quick revision, Dan pressed send, holding his phone close to him and grinning madly.

"Oh Dan," He thought to aloud, "What have you gotten yourself into?"

Humming happily to himself, Dan hurried off to go get a vase for the flowers.

 **A/N: If you haven't already please go check out my newer story I'm starting called "Blossom!" It's a Pastel!Dan and Punk!Phil AU.**


	10. Ch 10: Rendezvous

**A/N: I need to get better at writing longer chapters lmao. I probably would add a bit to this chapter but I'm gonna be on vacation for a while and I wont have wi-fi or my laptop… sorry guys!**

 **April 19th**

Dan closed up the bookstore a bit earlier than he usually did that evening and made it to Lou's by 7:26.

He spotted Phil before he even walked into the little diner. His friend was sitting alone in the same spot that they had lunch the other day, fiddling with a sugar packet.

Letting out a deep breath, Dan pushed the door open, the small bell ringing to alert the staff. Phil looked up as Dan approached the table, a smile creeping onto his face.

"Dan, hey!" Phil smiled up at the brunet as he took a seat, "How are you?"

"Definitely better than I was last night," Dan laughed nervously, still abashed by the memory.

"I'd hope so," Phil picked up a menu and slid it towards Dan, "Here, order whatever you want, it's on me."

"Are you sure? I mean I can pay for my own meal, it's no problem," The reality of the situation at hand was that it actually _was_ a problem; though Dan could afford the food here, he was in too much debt to spend money on luxuries like this.

"Dan, I asked you on the date, I'm gonna pay," Phil smiled kindly, but what really struck Dan was that he had called this a _date_.

The young author glanced up at Phil. "D-date?"

"Oh um, yeah…But I mean if you don't want it to be it can just be a friend thing! The flowers too, think of them as a… _broquet_?"

"No, no, date is fine! Then again, after that pun maybe I'd rather it be a friend thing…"

Phil laughed guiltily. "My deepest apologizes."

Dan shook his head dismissively, averting his attention to the menu. Although Phil had given him the go-ahead to get what he pleased, he still tried to stick to the cheaper items. He eventually decided on a reasonably priced salad.

"Do you know what you're getting?" Phil inquired, setting down his flimsy, paper menu.

"Uh yeah, the summer field salad." Dan read off the carte.

Phil bit his lip before asking, "And it's what you want, right? Because I'd rather you get something expensive that you loved than something cheap you didn't like that much."

The young man's silence was an answer in itself.

"Okay," Phil slid the menu towards his date, "let's try this again."

By the time a waitress came by Dan had decided on the Mediterranean veggie wrap. Phil chose a philly cheese steak.

"So, did you just choose the philly cheese steak because you share a name?" Dan teased.

Phil rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his lemonade. "You wouldn't believe how much I get that. Any time someone asks my favorite food I have to lie to avoid that comment."

A feeling of guilt twisted in Dan's stomach; he hoped he hadn't annoyed Phil. "Sorry for bringing it up again, I didn't mean to be irritating."

"It's fine," Phil bushed off Dan's apology, "And besides, I don't mind when you do it."

Dan could feel a rosy tint spreading across his cheeks. "Oh."

Phil, on the other hand, seemed unabashed. "So, how was your day?"

"Well, after the hangover wore off, it was okay. I think I might be on the verge of a new story idea."

"Really? What's it about?"

"Well…" Dan hesitated, "When I say, 'on the verge' I mean I _think_ I'm going to have a good idea, but I haven't yet."

Phil laughed mirthfully. "I understand, I feel that way about painting sometimes. How about this, what's something you have wanted to write about, but you just never fully developed a plot?"

The writer thought for a moment. "I've always wanted to write a fiction novel about a small town mystery or something like that."

"Nice, I love mystery books," Phil grinned. "So, do you have any favorite books or authors?"

"Oh my gosh, yes!" Dan exclaimed, his voice going unusually high, "Well I love Stephen King, he's always been a favorite, then there's John green—"

Dan went off on a long-winded speech about the various authors and books he admired, a spark of passion burning in his eyes. The young painter had a similar glint in his eyes as he listened intently to Dan's rambling.

The young man was in the midsts of describing the brilliance of William Shakespere's _Hamlet_ when Phil interrupted him.

"I want to paint you," The minute the words left his lips, a flustered look arose on his face, "Sorry I um, didn't mean to interrupt I just thought of that and it kinda slipped out and um, sorry…"

"It's fine," Dan assured him, bewildered, "Um, why do you want to paint me?"

"You have a nice bone structure, and pretty eyes…" A light blush crept up onto Phil's high cheekbones.

"Oh. Um, thank you," Dan muttered.

"Gosh, sorry that was a weird thing to say!"

"No, no! It was…sweet," Dan grinned, fiddling nervously with the end of his sleeve, "I'd be happy to model for you."

"Really?" Phil instantly perked up, "I've been looking for someone for quite a while."

Dan was about to respond when the waitress returned with their food. The two muttered polite thanks as the waitress set their plates in front of them.

"Oh my gosh, this is _amazing_ ," Phil moaned through a mouthful of sandwich.

Dan nodded in agreement, digging into his food.

There was little conversation the rest of the meal as the two men were too engrossed in their sandwich to think of anything to talk about.

…

"As someone who lives off one pound instant noodles, this was the best meal I've had in a while," Dan laughed, wiping his mouth.

"Well in that case, I'll be sure to ask you out again," Phil grinned, winking at Dan.

Dan only smiled softly, a warm feeling growing in the pit of his stomach, "Thank you for dinner."

"Thank you for not turning me down," Phil slid his credit card into the checkbook and handed it to a nearby waiter, "That would have been incredibly awkward."

"I could never do that to you," Dan jokingly placed a hand on top of Phil's, and was taken aback when Phil moved his hand quickly, interlacing their fingers.

"I'm glad."

The two were interrupted when the waiter returned with Phil's card.

"Thank you," Phil released Dan's hand to take the checkbook. He put his credit card back into his wallet, leaving a generous tip on the table, "Shall we go?"

Dan nodded, standing up. Phil made sure to walk in front of Dan, holding the door open for him.

"Thank you," Dan laughed as Phil bowed in a dramatic manner.

Dan was overly aware of Phil's hand brushing his own as they walked back to his flat. Finally, after a few minutes of consideration, he mustered up the courage to grab it.

"I had fun tonight, thank you again for dinner," Dan said as they approached his front door.

"The pleasure is all mine," Phil held Dan's hand up, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it.

Dan blushed, "I'll see you tomorrow, maybe?"

"If not you can always text me," Phil said.

"Definitely," With a grin, Dan turned and stepped inside. He glanced back briefly at Phil, who smiled and waved, and then closed the door.


	11. Editing Results

I have finished editing! Here's a list of what changed:

 **1\. The first day of this story takes place April 17** **th**

 **2\. The bills are due** may **29** **th**

 **3\. Dan owes 1,500 pounds** fro **not paying rent for the past three months, plus an additional fine of 400**

 **4\. I combined chapters 4 &5 so now they are just one big chapter.**

 **5\. The friend who gave Phil a ride when he was stuck at Dan's house is now named Al, not Chris**

 **6\. Plus a bunch of grammar/spelling mistakes** have **been corrected, and I added/removed sentences for clarity.** **?**

Not gonna lie, I do feel like it might be best just to reread what has already been written? I mean if you have a great memory then don't worry about it.

Otherwise, my updates have been slow and I've edited so if you want to make sure you know everything then go for it.

Updates will be more frequent from now on!


	12. Ch 11: Contrivance

**A/N: Sorry this is so late, I've been really busy**

 **April 21st**

It's called the dead of night because it is believed to be the rare occasion when everything is silent. There are no birds chirping, no traffic, even the constant buzz of ancient street lamps seems to be dulled by the suffocating darkness that has fallen over the land. Given its serene stillness, many people use this time as an opportunity to rest. Or perhaps it is still _because_ of the lack of humanity? Who's to say. One thing that is certain, however, is that the majority of Great Brittan is enclosed in a peaceful slumber. Aside from Dan Howell, of course. The metallic clicking of the young man's typewriter sounds unusually loud in his otherwise silent apartment. Despite his heavy eyelids, he feels wide awake; he's _finally_ thought of a good storyline, something that might give him a chance at winning this writing competition.

 ** _It was a frosty winter morning_** Dan typed feverishly. **_The barren snow scape before me felt almost as empty as my head._**

 ** _Where was I?_**

 ** _How had I gotten here?_**

 ** _Question after question clawed its way to the front of my consciousness, sending me into a sense of panic._**

Dan's fingers worked tirelessly against the plastic keys for several more hours, and only rested once their owner noticed a single ray of sunlight shining through the window and lighting up the apartment.

"What the—" The young man turned on his phone, checking the time.

8:30 a.m.

He groaned, letting his head hit the back of his chair. Why did he do this to himself?

Shoulders slumped with the exhaustion of yet another sleepless night, the young man pushed himself out of his desk chair and shuffled over to his kitchen.

Dan grabbed the kettle out from one of the cabinets, setting it on the stovetop. As he waited for the water to boil, he busied himself with tidying up the kitchen. Before he knew it, the faint whistling of the kettle was filling the kitchen, rising like a crescendo of flutes.

Dan dumped a pack of instant coffee into a mug, then adding the water. The familiar taste of the drink was enough to help him open his eyes all the way, but not enough to give him back his usual energy.

A few minutes later and Dan was feeling more mentally awake, but physically dead. As much as he wished he had slept, he wouldn't go back and change anything; he had _finally_ thought of a story idea! This could be it, his big break.

Then again, was that not what all aspiring artists thought at the slightest glimpse of recognition?

Pushing his negative thoughts aside, Dan made his way back to his bedroom. He caught a glimpse of himself as he passed a mirror; his hair was a curly mess atop his head. After a moment of contemplation, the young man decided he wouldn't bother straightening it today. It was too much effort, not to mention that he had been wanting to change up his look a little bit.

Roughly an hour later, Dan had showered and gotten dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and a matching oversized sweater; he really didn't feel like putting

Effort into his look today, he just wanted to be comfortable.

With his key ring jingling softly in his hand, Dan made his way down to the shop. He faltered halfway down the stairs when he felt his phone buzz twice in his pocket. He pulled it out, reading the notification from his home screen.

 _Phil Lester 9:23 a.m._

 _Hey!_

 _Phil Lester 9:24 a.m._

 _I was wondering if I could drop by some time today to talk about that portrait you'd be modeling for?_

Dan quickly typed out a response _._

 **Yeah, sure! Feel free to stop by whenever** **?**

 _Great! I'll see you then_

Dan grinned, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

Although the two men had only been friends for a few days, they had quickly bonded over their many similar interests and were on the path to becoming good friends.

Humming lightly to himself, the writer continued downstairs.

…

"Oh, come on!" Dan groaned, dropping the stack of books he had in his arms.

Swearing under his breath, he climbed down off his ladder, gathering the scattered paperbacks. He resented restocking the shelves.

He had just managed to finish the second box of books when the door swung open, and Phil walked in the shop.

"Hey!" Phil grinned, walking over to the ladder.

"Hi, how are you?" Dan climbed down, holding out his hand for Phil to shake.

"I'm good! I brought you Chinese food," Phil held up a bag of takeout, which Dan took gratefully and set on his desk.  
"Thank you!" Dan grinned, "But you really shouldn't have."

"It's no big deal. So, what are you up to?" Phil asked, eyeing the ladder.

"Well, I'm _trying_ to restock the shelves," Dan sighed, "but that's pretty hard to do when I drop the box every three minutes."

"Can I help?" Phil offered.

"Oh, um yeah! Can you grab that box off the table?" Dan motioned to the final box, which was filled to the brim with heavy hardcover books.

Phil nodded walking over to the table. Grabbing the handles securely, he picked to box up. Or rather, he attempted to.

"Ah!" Phil let out a sharp gasp, dropping the box.

"Phil?" Dan looked over at his friend in alarm, hopping off his ladder, "Are you alright? What happened?"

"I'm—I'm fine. It's nothing. I guess I just slept on my shoulder wrong." He muttered, rubbing his left shoulder.

Dan had a creeping feeling that it was more than just a sore muscle, but decided not to pry.

"Oh yeah, I hate when that happens…You know what? I'm hungry, let's take a break from the books." Dan suggested, not wanting Phil to hurt his arm again.

Still looking rather embarrassed, Phil nodded in agreement.

The two sat down with their takeout, eating lunch al desko.

"So, about the painting," Phil began, talking between bites, "I'm leaving for New York tomorrow for this business trip for my dad but I'll be back next week sometime. I was thinking we could work on the painting that Tuesday and Wednesday? Whatever works for you, really."

Dan nodded, taking a bite. "Yeah, I'm free pretty much all week."

"Great!" Phil paused before adding, "Also, would you be interested in going to see a movie some time after that?"

Dan grinned, wiping the food off his mouth. "Yeah, definitely."

"Alright, start thinking about what you want to go see," Phil gave Dan a small smile.

After a few more minutes of small talk, Phil glanced down at his phone, checking the time. "Well, I should probably be on my way, I need to pack."

"Okay, it was nice talking to you," Dan grinned, "And thanks again for lunch."

"Yeah, no problem! I'll be pretty busy but I'll try to text you when I can."

"Alright. I'll see you in a week then?"

"Yeah, see you in a week," Phil waved, stepping out of the bookstore and into the busy streets.

 **A/N: Sorry this was boring and not very well-written but I'm all out of ideas for this chapter.**


	13. Ch 12: Vocation

**A/N: I start school soon and I'm kinda excited and kinda annoyed.**

 **April 26** **th**

"Yeah, 10:00 works for me as well…mhm…alright, will do…thanks again, Mr. Avisaro...Yeah, you too," Phil ended the call, tossing his work phone down on the hotel dresser and collapsing back on his bed.

His personal phone, which was sitting on his nightstand, let out an acute ping. Phil reached to pick it up.

 ** _Dan 9:32 p.m._**

 _Hi, is your meeting thing over? :)_

Phil smiled at the notification, glad he had at least something to look forward to at the end of the day. He pondered on what it would be like to live a simpler life. What would it be like to have a more accustomed job? Just for one day, Phil wanted to wake up at six, eat breakfast, shower, then head off to work an eight-hour shift at a nice little shop. At the end of the day, he would come home and that would be it. No over-sea conferences, no cocky businessmen in crisp, black suits…just your generic twenty-something-year-old British man working a run-of-the-mill job. It would be nice, Phil thought. Much more relaxing than working for his dad. This wasn't at all what Phil had planned for his life. He wanted to be a painter, open up his own small gallery, maybe even get a few paintings in one of the more well-known art museums. His plan was going quite well until his father's medical issues forced him to fill his role for a few months. Since then, his Dad seemed to be under the assumption that Phil wanted to follow in his footsteps. His big, boring footsteps. Yeah, right.

 **Hey! yeah we just finished**. Phil responded.

Dan and Phil had been texting back and forth as much as they could since the older man left. However, due to Phil's tight schedule and the five-hour time zone gap, this meant Dan had been staying up quite late. Not that Dan minded, of course.

 _Cool!_

Phil began typing out a message but faltered before hitting send. He didn't want to sound too weird…He just really needed to have a proper conversation with someone that wasn't interrogating him about last months purchases. Hoping he wouldn't come off as clingy, he replied:

 **Can I call you? I kinda miss your voice...**

An entire ocean away, Dan was lying in his bed with this stupid grin on his face, staring at his phone.

 _Yes_

A moment later, Dan's ringtone broke the silence in his flat.

"Hey," Dan spoke softly into the receiver.

"Hey," Phil responded, pleased to be talking to his friend.

"How are you?" Dan mumbled groggily. He was obviously tired.

"I'm good, you?"

"Good."

"You're not too sleepy, are you? I know it's pretty late there…"

"No! No, I'm fine. Been working on my story and just decided to take a break."

"Well," Phil chuckled, "If you're sure…"

"I am. So, how did the meeting go today?" Dan asked.

"It went well. We signed a contract with a big company in America, and they're gonna allow us to sell some of our products in their stores."

"That's great! What does your dad do, anyway? I mean, he's the one you go on all these trips for, right?"

"Oh, um, well…" Phil hesitated, trying to come up with something to tell Dan. He didn't want to lie, but he wasn't sure he wanted to tell the truth either. Not yet, at least, "He works for Resked, that manufacturing company."

"Oh yeah, I've heard of them…" Dan muttered, "What do they make again?"

"They own and manufacture products for three stores: Serplex, the grocery store; Howse Town, the furniture store; and Beauty Bath, the makeup store."

"Wow, seems like quite a job. What does he do?"

"Oh, you know… helps manage business transactions and stuff…" Phil winced at the waver in his voice; he had always been a horrible liar.

Despite Phil's concerns, Dan didn't question him further. "Oh, cool."

Desperate for a change in topic, Phil asked: "So, what did you do today?"

"Not much, just the usual ringing up books, writing. Pretty boring compared to your day."

Phil laughed dryly. "Well, I'd certainly rather have a boring day with you than an exciting day with a bunch of uptight businessmen."

Dan was blushing profusely on the other end of the call. "Oh. Well, um…Thank you…"

"Don't mention it," Phil laughed. Dan was cute when he was flustered.

The two carried on conversation late into the night—or at least pretty late for Dan.

"Oh wow," Dan muttered.

"What is it?"

"It's four in the morning."

"Is it really?" Phil exclaimed, "You really need to go to sleep…"

"Yeah, I guess I do," Dan sighed, "It was nice talking to you, though."

"I enjoyed it too." Phil grinned.

"G'night, Phil."

"Goodnight—er, morning, Dan."

Dan laughed softly before ending the call. It was only a matter of minutes before he was fast asleep.

 **April 29** **th**

Dan awoke to the faint sound of birds chirping. He felt quite refreshed as he had gotten a proper eight hours of sleep for the first time in weeks. He had agreed to model for Phil today, and decided not to open the shop; thus, he could sleep in.

After a quick breakfast, Dan changed into some black jeans and an old t-shirt, hoping it would be appropriate. Once again, he left his hair curly.

Ready to go, he called Phil.

The dial tone rang only twice before Phil picked up.

"Hey! How are you?" Phil's voice rang sweet and clear through the receiver.

"I'm good, you?"

"Great!"

"So um, where exactly should I meet you?" Dan asked.

"I have a studio a little ways from my house. Do you have a car?"

"No. I um… usually walk everywhere or take the bus," In the city, not having a car was quite common, but in a small town like this, it was almost unheard of. Truth be told, Dan had told his car a few years ago when he decided he needed the money more than the luxury of private transportation.

"Okay, in that case, I'll just send a chauffeur; it's a bit out of walking range," Phil chuckled, acting as if what he suggested was normal for a person like Dan.

"You're sending a _what?_ "

"A chauffeur."

"Wow… Okay then."

"If you're not comfortable with that I can come get you myself," Phil offered, seeming concerned.

"Oh no, it's fine! I just thought you were going to tell me to get an Uber or something!"

Phil laughed, "Of course not! So, I'll see you soon?"

"Yeah, see ya!" Dan ended the call, grinning to himself.

He could already tell it would be a great day.

 **A/N: Sorry this is shortish, I had a 2.7k word chapter and had to split it somehow**


	14. Ch: 13: Infatuation

**A/N: I have so much to write this weekend help**

 **Also, I just wanted to put it out there that I do usually indent my paragraphs, I just chose not to with fanfiction. Why? I don't really know when I started, but it probably has to do with a lot of people reading this on cell phones and its just easier I guess? Like if There's a lot of dialogue.**

 **Does anyone want me to start indenting? Would it make it easier to read? I don't mind, I can do it with or without**

 **April 29th**

A short while later, a sleek, black car pulled up in front of Howell's Book Emporium, earning Dan a note-worthy amount of attention as he hurried out from his shabby, little flat. He ducked quickly into the car, trying to avoid the eyes of curious pedestrians.

For the first ten minutes or so of driving consisted mainly of small towns and back roads. After a while, the buildings slowly became more and more spaced out until the only signs of construction were the occasional farms. It was another half-hour or so before the car reached the studio.

Dan stared up in awe at the great, iron gates that swung open as they approached, closing slowly behind them. Dan, who had been too busy gawking at the gate to notice the actual building, turned around. "Holy…" Dan looked up the studio, his jaw going slack.

In front of him was one of the most magnificent facilities he had ever seen. Deep brown, wooden boards lined the exterior, giving the place a rustic feel. On the left side of the building, large windows stretched from floor to ceiling, offering a splendid view of the rolling hills and rivers spreading across the land. A spacious patio surrounded the front door, housing a ring of couches around a fire pit.

Just as the driver shut the engine off, the huge, okay door swung open and Phil stepped outside.

"Hey!" Phil called out as the chauffeur hurried around to open the door for his passenger.

"H-hi…" Dan's gaze was still fixed on the massive building behind his friend, "This is _your_ studio?"

"Yeah, my parents gave it to me a few years ago for my birthday."

Dan's mouth dropped open, his eyes nearly popping out of his skull. "They gave you a bloody _studio_? My parents gave me socks for my last birthday!"

Phil shrugged, laughing uncomfortably. "Shall we um, go inside?"

The writer nodded, eager to see the rest of the place.

The interior of the studio was just as lavish as the outside, if not more so. Large, golden chandeliers hung from the ceiling, illuminating the foyer they had stepped into. Paintings covered the deep blue walls, all varying in styles and sizes.

"Did you paint all these?" Dan asked, admiring a picture of a cat basking lazily in the sun.

"Oh um, mostly. Some I bought from other artists. Like that one," Phil pointed to a painting of a waterfall.

"Phil…" Dan shook his head in awe, turning back to his friend, "I figured you were good, but _this_ …this is incredible!"

Phil blushed, grinning down at his feet. "Ah, thank you… But really, I'm not that amazing."

Dan rolled his eyes, "Oh please, you're being humble. You're so talented! I'm surprised you're not hanging in art museums worldwide!"

Phil only blushed harder, biting his lip to suppress a smile. "Th-thank you. Shall we um—follow me," Not waiting for a response, Phil spun around, hurrying down the hall.

The room they entered looked much like the rest of the place, aside from the fact that it was more cluttered. Blank canvasses sat in stacks next to tubs of paint and brushes. There were even chests of random props for still-life paintings.

"You've really got a set up here…" Dan pictured his old, beaten up typewriter sitting on his desk in his cramped little flat and felt rather embarrassed. What must Phil think of him and his lifestyle?

Thanks," Phil smiled politely, looking oddly self-conscious despite his magnificent work room.

"So um, what do I do?" Dan queried, tearing his gaze from the many lamps stashed in the corner.

"Well…" Phil hurried over to a cabinet, opening the door. He pulled out a plain white button down and brought it back to Dan. "Here, change into this. You can keep your pants on, I'm only going to be painting from the waist up."

"Okay. Should I uh, change here or is there a bathroom nearby...?" Dan asked.

"The bathroom is down that hall towards the left if you're uncomfortable, but I don't really mind if you change here. I've painted nude models before so trust me when I say I've seen it all." Phil laughed

Dan laughed nervously, suddenly self-conscious about how he would look next to the chiseled male models he was sure Phil had worked with.

Pushing his insecurities aside, he turned his back towards his friend, pulling his shirt over his head and quickly putting on the button-down.

Throwing his shirt next to the rest of his stuff, Dan returned to Phil.

"Now what do I do?"

"Just take a seat here," Phil motioned to a black stool sitting in front of a faded wine red backdrop.

Dan obliged, silently wondering he would be able to sit still for such long durations of time.

"Alrighty, I'm just gonna make a few adjustments here and there…"

Dan sat in discomfort as Phil began readjusting his hair and shirt. He stepped back after a moment but seemed unsatisfied as he stepped forwards again and began undoing the buttons on Dan's shirt.

"Sorry, I know this can be really weird," Phil smiled apologetically at a blushing Dan, "If it's too much for you, you can tell me. I'll find another pose."

"No, it's okay, I understand," Dan laughed, wishing desperately that his rosy tint would go away.

Phil stopped unbuttoning his shirt a little more than halfway down. He turned his attention to Dan's sleeve, sliding it almost all the way off of his shoulder, but not quite. This look seemed to please him as he smiled and walked back to his easel.

"We'll work in forty-five minutes intervals with five-minute breaks. I should be able to finish within a few hours.

"Have you ever modeled?" Dan asked, watching as Phil squirted out some paints onto a pallet.

"Once. I decided it just wasn't for me."

"What happened?"

"Well…" Dan couldn't be sure, but Phil seemed to be blushing, "The lady I was modeling for spent about ten minutes trying to convince me to not only completely undress, but to do so with another person for her painting. I had already been paid so I kind of had to model for her but I still didn't want to go full frontal nude! I finally compromised with her and just did it shirtless. It was one of the most uncomfortable situations I've ever been in."

Dan laughed, trying very hard not to mess up his hair or clothes. "Oh gosh, that sounds horrific!"

"Trust me, it was, "Phil shuddered, beginning to sketch out the picture before him, "Now, stay still."

"Oh yeah, sorry," Dan straightened up, looking off to the side as Phil had instructed.

He watched intently as Phil began making smooth strokes across the canvas.

…

Over an hour and a half had passed, and the stiffness in Dan's neck wasn't getting any better. It turns out the whole "break every forty-five minutes" system was a bit tougher than he'd originally thought it out to be.

Phil seemed to read his mind—or perhaps it was his impatient sighs and fidgety hands that gave it away. "Sorry if you're getting weary, we'll take a break in a moment. I just want to finish this little bit…" Phil looked at his painting with frustration then squinted back up at Dan. His gaze drifted between the canvas and his friend several more times before he finally walked towards his model, stopping a little less than a foot away from him.

"Sorry, I just can't get your eyes right…" Phil muttered, shuffling even closer, "here, can you um," He placed his fingers gently under Dan's chin, guiding his face so they were looking at each other.

Dan could feel his heartbeat accelerate as the artist examined his features. After a moment of staring into Dan's eyes. Phil's gaze softened. He was no longer looking at Dan like he was his model but in a way much more intimate.

Almost unknowingly, Phil moved closer until the two men were mere centimeters away from each other. The painter finally broke eye-contact with Dan, his gaze dropping down to look at his lips before flickering back up.

"Phil…" Dan breathed, his voice softer than a whisper. He wasn't quite sure why he spoke; there was nothing to be said. Perhaps he just fancied the sound of Phil's name on his lips.

Phil leaned in more, close enough that Dan could feel his breath lightly tickling his mouth. As cliché as it was, Dan could have sworn he felt a jolt of energy rush through him as Phil's lips lightly brushed his own. He was just about to fully close the gap between them when—

"Mr. Lester?"

Phil jumped, dropping his paintbrush in surprise as one of his butlers swung the door open.

Dan straightened up, a painful longing settling in the pit of his stomach.

"Y-yes Gerrund?" Phil stuttered, trying to look as calm and collected as one could in his situation.

"Mr. Narrond is on the phone, shall I tell him to call back later?" If the butler had noticed what he walked in on, he didn't make it obvious.

"Oh, of course he bloody is…" Phil muttered, picking up his brush and wiping his paint-covered hands on a rag. "Tell him I'll be with him in a moment."

"Yes, sir," with a curt nod, Gerrund turned and hurried off.

"Sorry, but I really need to take this…" Phil gave Dan an apologetic smile.

"It's fine!" Dan assured Phil, covering his mouth in a tired yawn.

"Hey, you seem pretty tired, do you want to finish another day?" Phil offered, washing off his paintbrush.

"Yeah, I guess that would be best. Can I see what you've done so far?" Dan made an attempt to peek at the painting, but Phil stepped in front of him.

"Not until it's done!"

Dan groaned, pouting in annoyance.

"Now, here," Phil tossed Dan's shirt at him, "I'll text you later and we can arrange another day, alright?"

"Works for me," Dan unbuttoned the borrowed shirt, draping it across the stool.

"I should really get this call now, Narrond _hates_ waiting. I'll get the chauffeur ready for you."

"Alright!" Dan pulled his shirt on, "Have a nice day and thanks for the ride!"

Phil grinned at Dan, waving goodbye before hurrying out of the room.

…

On the ride home, Dan could think of nothing other than him and Phil almost kissing. Did he mean to do that? Would he have if his butler didn't come in? He didn't bring it up after Gerrund left…Did he want to pretend it didn't happen? Were they moving too fast? All of these questions swam in the writer's head as he watched the rolling pastures go by. And try as he might, Dan couldn't crush the butterflies that arose in his stomach every time he remembered the way Phil had looked at him before leaning in.

 **A/N: I had the majority of this pre-written wHOOP**


	15. Ch 14: Mamihlapinatapai

**A/N: I'm hella close to 400 followers on Wattpad!**

 **May 1** **st**

"Alright," Phil muttered, setting his paintbrush on the edge of the easel. "I think I'm done."

Dan let out a sigh of relief, slouching for the first time in hours. "Great! Can I see it?" Dan slid off his stool, beginning to unbutton his shirt.

"Yeah, sure," Phil nodded, biting his lip nervously. Truth was, he was pretty anxious to see Dan' reaction. What if he didn't like it?

Dan walked round to Phil's side, eyes widening in awe as he saw the canvas. "Oh, damn…"

It was amazing; Phil had captured every feature of Dan's face flawlessly. His brown,

curly hair fell lightly over his smooth skin. His soft, brown eyes looked both innocent

and alluring at the same time, just as the smile playing on his pale wine-red lips was

both smug and coy. The deep red background was a good choice—it made his skin look lighter and his eyes brighter. In contrast, the white button down prevented his skin from appearing _too_ pale. Altogether, it was one of the most beautiful pieces of art Dan had ever seen.

"I-It's fantastic, Phil!" Dan's mouth was agape in awe. "I love it!"

Phil beamed, fidgeting with his paint-covered rag. "Really?"

"Yes!" Dan struggled to tear his gaze away from the painting as he smiled at his friend. "It's a masterpiece."

Phil, now feeling much more confident, smirked. "Well, painting a masterpiece isn't

That hard when you have a model as gorgeous as I do."

Dan turned scarlet, suddenly conscious of his unbuttoned shirt. "Oh, um…t-thank you," He murmured, pulling the loose hems of his shirt together.

"Of course," Phil nodded as Dan changed back into his normal clothes. "I was thinking," Phil began, moving his used brushes to the sink, "would you like to stay for a while? I could break out a bottle of wine."

Dan nodded, returning the shirt to the prop cabinet. "Yeah, that sounds lovely!"

…

"The sky is beautiful out here," Dan took a sip of his wine, staring up at the starry sky.

"Yeah," Phil smiled softly, watching the warm light from the fire dance across Dan's face, "Beautiful."

"I meant to ask," Dan held up his wine glass, "what is this? It's piquant."

"Strawberry Gamay, it's one of my favorites," Phil replied, taking a sip. "The first time I had it was at one of my parent's fancy ass social parties. I was thirteen."

"Dan raised an eyebrow. "Your parents let you have wine?"

"Oh no, I put it in a mug and said it was cranberry juice."

"Unbelievable," Dan chuckled, trying to imagine a bored, thirteen-year-old Phil sneaking around with a mug of alcohol.

"Hey, if you had to attend boring social meetings your whole childhood, you would too."

"Dan laughed, looking back up at the sky. "How many stars do you think are out there?"

Phil thought for a moment. "Gotta be at least seven."

Dan looked back down, rolling his eyes.

"I'm not wrong!"

"You're a dork."

Phil just chuckled, pulling the blanket on their laps closer. "Are you busy this Thursday?"

"Just the usual stuff with the shop…why?"

I know I promised you a night at the movies after we finished the painting, but how would you feel about a night at the Royal National Theater?

Dan's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

Phil nodded. "I got two tickets to see Silent in the Night, are you interested?"

"Yes!" Dan beamed, setting his wine glass on the table. "Of course!"

 _Silent in the Night_ was a drama musical that had come out recently; it had pretty high ratings.

"Great, then it's a date." Phil winked, taking a sip of his drink.

Dan grinned, biting his lip as he adverted his gaze to the fire pit.

The two fell into a comfortable silence, the sounds of the crackling fire filling the space. A cool breeze blew across the land. Phil noticed Dan pull the blanket closer to him, shivering slightly.

"Are you cold?" Phil asked, concern etching its way into his face.

"A bit."

Phil wrapped an arm around Dan's shoulders, pulling him closer. The writer leaned into the artist's touch, praying that Phil wouldn't notice his heartbeat rattling his ribcage.

After a few moments of quiet, Phil asked: "Dan, what's something you've never told anyone?"

Dan, taken aback by the question, took a few seconds to respond. "I dunno…I'm kinda an open book."

"There has to be _something_ Phil mused.

Dan rested his head against Phil's shoulder, thinking. "Well," he began, "one time, in year ten, I fell and hit my neck on the edge of my nightstand. My friends already made fun of me for being clumsy as it was, so I really didn't want to explain what had happened. I told them it was a hickey.

Phil threw his head back in a laugh."

"Oh shut up!" Dan swatted him in the side, a bright red blush appearing in his cheeks.

"That's golden." Phil chuckled.

"Alright mister, what's your big secret?" Dan queried.

"I have a tattoo."

Dan's eyebrows shot up. "Well, that's certainly more interesting than my phony love-bite.

"I went through a rough time a year or so ago. I tried to 'remake' myself."

"Did you?"

Phil shrugged. "Kinda, but not in the way I thought I would."

"Can I see it?"

"Sure," Phil sat up, facing away from Dan. It one swift motion he pulled his shirt up, leaving it hanging loosely around his neck. On his left shoulder blade, there was a dark outline of a rose; it's black ink stood out brilliantly against Phil's pale skin.

"It's beautiful," Dan whispered, reaching out and gently tracing the outline on Phil's back. "Why'd you get it?"

"He hated roses; never understood why I liked them." Phil paused, ignoring the heat rising in his face as Dan's fingers brushed against his skin. "Eventually I learned to hate them too. This was my way of taking back that part of me he stole."

"Oh…" Dan muttered, beginning to get an idea of what happened. "I'm sorry…"

"Don't be, I'm over it," Phil turned around, giving Dan a small smile. His gaze briefly flicked to Dan's lips, almost immediately darting back up to his eyes.

The air suddenly became very tense, the two men sharing a look. Phil began to lean forward a little but quickly stopped diverting his gaze.

" _Mamihlapinatapai:"_ Dan thought to himself, " _a look shared by two people, each wishing the other would initiate something they both long for but don't want to start themselves."_

 **A/N: I love obscure words**


	16. Ch 15: Histrionics

**A/N: Sorry this is so late! I got hit by a hurricane lmao**

 **May 6** **th**

At the signal of a knock, Dan hurried downstairs, straightening out his tie.

He and Phil were going to see _Silent in the Night_ in theater, and Dan couldn't be more excited. Not only was he going to spend the evening watching a superb musical, but he was going to be spending time with Phil.

"Hey!" Dan grinned, swinging the door open.

"Hey."

Dan's gaze traveled up from Phil's simple, black suit to his equally dark hair, which was pushed away from his face.

"Damn…" Dan muttered, shutting the door behind Phil. "You look really hot."

Phil's cheeks darkened as he chuckled nervously. "Oh, um, thank you."

Dan smirked, pleased with himself.

"Are you almost ready to go?"

Dan nodded, pulling his tie around his neck. "Yeah, uh, there's just one thing…"

Phil glanced up. "Yeah?"

"I, uh, I don't know how to tie a tie…" Dan fiddled with the hem of the undone accessory awkwardly. He had spent around half an hour trying to figure out how to do it. He even found a handful of Wikihow articles, but it was no use.

Phil only laughed, walking towards him. "Here, let me,"

The brunette stood uncomfortably as Phil took the cloth in his hands and began knotting it. "Not much of one for formal dress?"

"Nah, never really have a reason to."

Phil finished swiftly, straightening out Dan's jacket. "There, better?"

"Yeah, thanks," Dan muttered. The artist was still standing only a few inches away from him.

A smile tugged at Phil's lips as he reached out, gently caressing his cheek. "You're beautiful."

Dan blushed, fighting back a smile. "Are you trying to one-up me from earlier?"

Phil chuckled, brushing the younger man's hair back from his eyes. "I mean, it's working, isn't it?"

Dan rolled his eyes, giggling softly. "Oh, shut up."

…

The two made their way out to the car, where Phil immediately burst into a story about some man who came into the bar the other night.

"So this guy has had, like, twenty shots and he's out of it, right? So I'm trying to help get out when—"

Dan's stomach growled loudly, and he blushed.

Phil paused. "Have you eaten yet?"

"No…Was I supposed to?" Dan asked sheepishly.

"No, you're fine! I wasn't planning on stopping anywhere, but we're going to get there over an hour early on this schedule. Somehow, I really don't fancy the idea of socializing with a bunch of dull businessmen… Do you like Thai food?"

Dan shrugged. "I've never really had it."

Phil looked offended. "You've never— Mr. Myson!"

The chauffer tilted his head towards Phil.

"Change of plans—can you take us to Som Saa first? It's an emergency."

Myson nodded, turning back to the road.

"What's Som Saa?" Dan inquired.

"It's only the most amazing Thai restaurant in England! I can't believe you've never heard of it."

"Well, I don't usually get the opportunity to eat out," Dan chuckled.

Phil blushed, looking awkwardly down at his hands. "Oh, um, sorry. I didn't realize—"No!" Dan interrupted Phil. "I wasn't offended, I was kidding."

"Oh. Well…" Phil smiled awkwardly, "Sorry anyways."

Dan laughed, taking Phil's hand. "Don't worry about it."

Phil looked out the window, biting his lip in an attempt to mask his smile.

…

"Can I start you gentlemen off with some drinks?" The waiter asked, pulling out his notepad.

The two had reached the restaurant in a little more than an hour. It was a nice little place, warmly decorated with plants scattered about.

"Yes, thank you," Phil smiled politely. "I'll take the siam sling, please."

"Okay, and for you?" The waiter looked at Dan.

"Oh, um…the la vie en rose please."

Their server nodded before hurrying off.

"So, what's good here?" Dan skimming over the menu.

"I usually get the kua kling pak sot, but pretty much everything here is amazing," Phil explained.

The writer nodded, locating Phil's favorite dish. " _Southern style dry curry of minced pork kaffir lime leaf and lemongrass served with fresh vegetables._ " It certainly sounded good…Dan skimmed the menu a bit more before finally deciding on the gaeng lao—a bamboo and mushroom soup.

After they placed their order, the two made light conversation over their cocktails.

"So, you said the musical was kinda a private thing?" Dan asked.

Phil nodded, stirring around the rose petals on the surface of his drink. "Yeah. The head of the company my dad works for, Resked, bought tickets for his top performing salesmen, which includes my dad and me."

Dan raised an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't officially work for them?"

Phil paused, hesitantly opening his mouth. "It's…complicated."

Dan nodded slowly, sipping his drink. "Oh. So you all got _one_ ticket? Just one?"

Phil gave Dan a funny look. "Yeah, why?"

"Phil?"

"Yeah…?"

"Did you _buy_ my ticket?"

Phil paled, clearing his throat nervously. "I um…"

"Phil!" Dan scolded, looking at him in shock. "Those tickets are over fifty pounds a piece!"

"Dan, it's fine! I had a little extra cash and I really wanted someone to go with."

Dan ran a hand through his hair, looking at Phil with exasperation. "Phil, you know I don't like to cause you any ancillary expenses."

"Hey, listen to me," Phil placed his hand on the inside of Dan's thigh, "I wanted to do this, okay? I don't care how much it costs, I really wanted you to come with me tonight."

Dan glanced down at his lap in surprise, his gaze flittering back up to Phil's. "I know, I just—"

"Shhh, don't stress over it. Okay?"

Dan sighed softly. "Okay."

"Good." Phil smiled crookedly. "Now enjoy yourself, yeah?"

Dan nodded, a grin smile creeping onto his face. "I will."

Phil grinned, leaning back in his chair and—to Dan's dismay—pulling his hand back.

…

By the end of dinner, Dan had decided he liked Thai food.

"That was amazing," he commented as they left the restaurant. "I can't believe I never had Thai before…"

"Neither can I," Phil agreed. "I'm glad you liked it."

The two men reached the car and got seated, buckling their seatbelts as Mr. Myson left the parking lot.

…

The theater was amazing. Large, glittering chandeliers hung from time-worn ceilings, shining down upon rows of oak and velvet chairs. A deep red carpet laid under the feet of dozens of men and women in crisply ironed suits and sleek dresses. Dan suddenly felt very out of place in the professional atmosphere.

Phil must have noticed his date's discomfort as he leaned down, placing a hand on the small of his back. "Relax, darling," He whispered. "We can go ahead and get seated if you want."

Dan smiled at the pet-name, glancing up at Phil "Y-yeah, sure."

With that, the two hurried to find a good seat.

…

"Will I get to meet your dad here?" Dan asked.

The spots they had gotten, while not front-row, were close to the stage and provided a splendid view.

"No, not this time," Phil quickly retaliated. The truth was that Phil's dad _was_ here. He just wasn't ready for him to meet Dan yet, "He's gonna be with a bunch of his business friends. It would be better for you two to meet at a more private place.

"Oh, I understand," Dan sighed.

Just then, an old, balding man and a woman Dan could only presume was his wife took the seats next to them.

"Mr. Miles, hi!" Phil grinned, holding out his hand.

The older man looked up, smiling when he realized who he was looking at. "Phil, m'boy, how are you?" He grabbed Phil's hand, giving it a firm shake.

"Good, you?"

"I'm good, thank you," He turned is attention to Dan. "Is this a friend of yours?"

"Oh, yes! This is Dan Howell," Phil answered, leaning back so the two men could see each other better.

"Nice to meet you, sir," Dan gave a polite smile, extending a hand for Miles to shake.

"And you, and you."

Phil and the older man made conversation for a few more minutes before the lights began flickering—a signal the show was about to start.

"Excited?" Phil looked over at Dan who was tapping his foot anxiously against the floor.

"Very," he grinned, his eyes sparkling in the dim glow of the spotlights. "Thanks for this, Phil."

Before Phil could respond, the musical began and Dan's attention was drawn to the stage.

…

The audience burst into applause as the first act came to a close and the intermission began.

"This is amazing! Dan exclaimed, grinning widely at Phil. "The way the actors portray such strong emotions…it's like they're actually their characters!"

Phil listened intently and Dan rambled on about the musical, nodding to show interest.

"—it's better than Les Miserables in my opinion."

Phil was about to respond when Mr. Miles turned to face him, tapping his shoulder. "So, how do you like the play so far?"

"It's great!" Phil grinned, nodding enthusiastically, "How about you?"

"Yes, yes, I'm enjoying it too. Although I really don't know why they included that gay couple, they really weren't needed, don't you agree?"

Phil gave Miles a tight-lipped smile. "Actually," He reached over, putting a hand on Dan's thigh. Dan blushed, swallowing uncomfortably, "I thought it added a nice diversity to the act."

Miles' eyes drifted down to Phil's right hand before shooting back up to his face. An expression of disgust and embarrassment overcame him as a high-pitched grunt rose in his throat. Without another word, he turned around to his wife.

"Sorry If I put you on the spot there," Phil chuckled, turning towards Dan, "I just really like pissing him off."

"I'm glad I could aid you in your evil plan."

Phil threw his head back in a laugh, giving Dan's thigh a gentle squeeze before retracting his hand. "I'm gonna run to the bathroom really quick, will you be fine by yourself?"

Dan nodded, folding his hands in his lap. "'Course, go ahead. "

Phil got up, hurrying off to the exit. It had only been a few minutes before Dan felt a firm tap on his shoulder. He turned around and was met with a clean-shaven, professional looking man.

"Hey, I'm Andrew Smich," He extended a hand, which Dan quickly took.

"I'm Dan Howell."

"Nice to meet you, Dan," The businessman shot Dan a dashing smile. "I'm sorry if this is too forward of me, I know it's not my place, but I have to ask; are you and Phil together?"

A faint blush began crawling up Dan's neck. "Oh. Uh…"

"I apologize, I shouldn't have," Mr. Smich chuckled uncomfortable, adjusting his tie.

Dan shook his head. "No, no, it's fine. Um, no, we're not a thing."

"Really? He raised an eyebrow "You seem quite close."

"We're friends…"

"I see…" Andrew muttered, "Do you think there's any possibility of you two becoming a couple?"

"I think," a voice spoke, "That it is none of your business what I do in my personal life," Phil carried himself with authority, holding a steady gaze with Mr. Smich

The businessman pursed his lips, leaning back in his seat. "My apologies."

Dan waited for Phil to sit down before asking: "What's his problem?" There was obviously a tension between the two men.

Phil sighed. "Andrews is…homophobic, to say the least. He thinks that my bisexuality makes me 'mentally unstable' and 'not suitable to work in a professional environment.'"

Dan whistled, turning around to glare at the man. "What an asshole…"

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Phil chuckled.

The conversation was cut short as the lights dimmed and the second act began.

…

Because the two men were both quite tired, colloquy was sparse on the way back. Neither of them said a word until Dan noticed Phil watching him with a slight smile on his face.

"What are you thinking about?" Dan inquired.

Phil hesitated. "Just how much I wish I could have kissed you the other day."

Dan's heart skipped a beat, his eyes widening.

This reaction seemed to amuse Phil, who smirked.

Deciding that two could play at Phil's little game, Dan responded: "Why don't you do it now?"

Phil's sly grin only widened, "I'm waiting for the right moment."

"And when will that be?"

The artist shrugged, turning back to look out the window. "Soon."

Dan's gaze lingered on Phil for a moment, watching the way the orange light of passing streetlamps illuminated his face. "You're a dick."

Phil laughed softly, shaking his head.

…

"Thank you so much for this, Phil. I had so much fun," Dan grinned, standing in front of his quaint living quarters.

"It was my pleasure." Phil gave a small bow.

"I want to take you out somewhere; you shouldn't have to plan all the dates."

"I'll hold you to that," Phil smiled crookedly in the darkness, "I should probably get going, I'm pretty tired."

"Yeah, me too," Dan agreed. Despite their fatigue, neither one of the men moved.

There was a moment of silence before Dan spoke. "Phil?"

"Yeah?"

Dan grabbed Phil by the tie, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before stepping back.

On this rare occasion, Phil blushed, trying to suppress the huge grin creeping onto his face. "G-goodnight, Dan."

"Night," Dan beamed, pleased with himself. Spinning on his heel, he unlocked his door and stepped inside.

 **A/N: I feel like this could be better but I haven't uploaded in a month so**


	17. Ch 16: Osculation

**A/N: i feel like my writing style in this isnt as good as it was in the first chapter when i was trying super hard?**

 **May 8th**

Dan took a long sip of his coffee, sighing deeply as its warmth spread through him. He had only begun liking coffee quite recently—he had always been more of a tea person. He had Phil to thank for his newfound obsession. The artist had taken him to a quaint café a few towns over one day, raving about this drink Dan absolutely had to try. And Phil was right—it was amazing. Unfortunately, no coffee Dan had bought since then had been as good. (Though Lou's came pretty close.)

"So," Louise used a rag to wipe the icing off her hands, "What did you want my opinion on?"

Dan swallowed his drink. "Well, Phil has taken me out on a lot of dates and I kinda want to do something for him, you know? I've come up with an idea that isn't too expensive and I want to get a second opinion."

"Alright, shoot."

Dan explained his plans, repressing a smile as Louise's face lit up.

"Oh my gosh, that's adorable, he'll love it!" She grinned, brushing the hair back from her face.

"You sure?"

"Definitely."

Dan grinned, finishing the last of his drink. "Thanks, Lou."

"Tell me how it goes!" She waved, watching as Dan hurried out the door.

…

Dan held the phone to his ear, anxiously waiting for Phil to pick up.

"Hey!"

"Phil, hi!" Dan spoke.

"What's up?"

Dan bit his lip. "Um… do you want to come over to my place tomorrow night?"

"Yeah, sure! What did you have planned?"

Dan paused, he hadn't actually arranged anything specific for them to do and was praying that Phil would be okay with that. "I thought we could just hang out. Maybe um…read…wait no that sounded really lame, oh gosh…"

Phil's laugh crackled in the receiver, "That sounds like a lot of fun," he sounded genuine, "of course I'll come."

The writer sighed in mitigation. "Great! I'll talk to you tomorrow, then?"

"Mhm, see you later."

…

 **May 9th**

It was around eight o'clock that Phil showed up at Dan's apartment, knocking firmly on the oak door. Dan swung it open only a moment later, grinning widely. "Hey!"

"Hi," Dan smiled, pulling him into a hug.

Phil inhaled the smell of old paper that always lingered behind the writer, taking comfort in its familiarity.

"I'm sorry that I couldn't take you out to a fancy restaurant or anything," Dan closed the door behind his date. "I know that's probably what you're used to."

"Oh don't apologize! A date doesn't have to be expensive to be good, yeah?"

"I guess you're right," Dan muttered thoughtfully, leading Phil up the stairs.

"And besides, no date is a bad one when I'm with you." Phil coquetted, grinning when a bit of heat appeared in Dan's cheeks.

"Oh, thanks…"

As they approached the top of the stairs, Dan faltered. "I um, I hope you like it," he spoke stiffly, not meeting Phil's eyes. Before the painter could respond, he pushed the door opened, walking into the lounge.

"Oh my gosh…" Phil gazed out in awe at the room.

Dan had really gone all out: candles sat on every surface available, illuminating the room in a warm glow. There was a bottle of cheap champagne in a bucket of ice on the coffee table next to the couch, where Dan's soft, red wine comforter was lying.

"It's not too much, is it?" The writer stood to the side, fidgeting awkwardly.

"No, no!" Phil turned to grin at his friend. "It's amazing."

Dan smiled coyly, glancing away.

…

"What do you think of this one?" Phil read, " _I'd much rather be a candle that has not yet been lit than a box of matches so hungrily burning themselves up_."

Dan thought for a moment. "I think it's saying that it's better to wait a long time to find someone you really love and have a connection with than to have a handful of short, passionate romances."

"Wow, I never would have got that," Phil stated, closing the book. "I think it's clear where my artistic talent lies."

Dan laughed softly, "It's a learned skill."

"Well, maybe you can teach me," Phil suggested, sliding an arm around Dan's shoulder. Dan gladly accepted the touch, leaning into Phil's chest.

"Maybe so."

The duo jumped (nearly spilling their champagne) as a loud crack of thunder shook the flat.

"I've always thought storms were fascinating..." Dan thought aloud, snuggling closer to Phil. Heavy drops began hitting the window

"Yeah, they're an excellent time to just sit and think."

"And what is it that you're thinking about?" Dan inquired.

Phil smiled softly, reaching out to comb a hand through his date's hair. "Just how gorgeous you are."

Dan laughed softly, brushing off the compliment. "Stop lying, we both know I look like a potato."

"Well, you must be a baked potato, because you're pretty hot."

Dan rolled his eyes, leaning into back against Phil. "You are so damn cheesy."

"You love it," Phil teased, poking Dan's side.

Dan chuckled, swatting his hand away. "Oh, shut up!"

The artist bit his lip in a smile that slowly slinked off his face.

Dan glanced up at him, their eyes meeting. A warm light flickered in Phil's eyes as he slowly moved his hand to Dan's jaw, cupping it gently.

Dan dropped his gaze down to Phil's lips, the same feeling of longing he had felt that day they almost kissed rising in his stomach.

He looked back up at Phil, his heartbeat drumming in his ears.

The young artist began leaning in. He was close enough that their noses were now gently brushing against each other.

Phil stopped mere millimeters away from Dan's mouth, an almost electrical tension sparking between their lips. Not being able to stand it any longer, Dan leaned forward, closing the gap.

Dan had been writing since he was a teenager yet he could think of no words to describe how damn good this felt. Phil's lips were soft and warm against his own, a reassuring touch of comfort as the thunder cracked outside.

Dan ran a hand through Phil's hair, savoring the feel of the painter's hands sinking down to his waist. Phil pulled Dan closer, deepening the kiss. The stormy gales outside rattled the ancient windowpanes, making the company of another person seem even more intimate.

Their arms wrapped tightly around each other and their legs intertwined, the duo fell back against the couch.

"I've been wanting to do that for so long Phil muttered against Dan's mouth, finally pulling away from the kiss.

"Oh gosh, don't even get me started," Dan laughed softly, the smile on his face barely visible in the dim, shaky candlelight.

The two quickly reconnected lips, kissing each other softly as the sound of raindrops bounced off the roof in a serene melody.

…

"I should probably get going," Phil whispered into Dan's hair, keeping his eyes shut.

"Stay," Dan whispered back, "Please,"

"I-I really shouldn't..." Phil slid a hand up the back of Dan's shirt, rubbing small circles onto his skin.

Dan moved his face from where it was buried in Phil's neck, pressing a slow, sleepy kiss to his lips. " _Stay_."

"Well..." Phil hesitated, "I _guess_ I could stay for a bit longer."

Dan smiled, burying his head into Phil's chest.

It wasn't before long that Dan had drifted into a deep sleep.

The artist contemplated trying to sneak out, but the idea of abandoning the warm couch—and Dan's embrace—only to step out into the cold, pouring rain was less than ideal. Pushing away his worries of what could go wrong, Phil allowed his eyes to flicker closed.

 **A/N: does it bother y'all when I do a lot of time skips? It's just more convenient.**


	18. Ch 17: Dayspring

**A/N: reading well-written fanfic is great until I start to realize how much better they are than me :')**

 **May 10th**

Phil sipped his coffee, standing in the open French doors that led to a small balcony. The view wasn't that impressive, just another angle of the adjacent stores and cobblestone streets that stretched through the town. The air was cool and gentle against his face, carrying the scent of last night's rain along with a few other unidentifiable aromas.

The artist cast a glance behind him. Dan was curled up on the couch, cuddling the pillow Phil had shoved under his arm after escaping from the man's tight grasp. His hair was disheveled and curly, swooping arcs of brown brushing gently against his face. The shirt he was wearing had become wrinkled and was hiked up, revealing the small of his back. Phil sighed, averting his gaze.

Last night was the first time anything blatantly romantic had sparked between them, and Phil knew very well the mistakes that could be made by rushing into a relationship. He was so scared that, if he wasn't careful, he would slip back into old habits, diving into another toxic romance. So instead he would take it slow—step by step, kiss by kiss, falling in love the way he should have last time.

"Phil?"

Dan's soft voice grabbed the artist's attention, and he quickly turned around, smiling tiredly. "Hey."

Dan sat up from his spot on the couch, rubbing a night's worth of sleep out of his eyes. "How long 've you been up?"

"Half an hour, give or take," Phil made his way to the sofa, sitting down next to Dan, who sleepily reclined into his lap. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah… wait how did you get off the couch without waking me up?" Dan cocked his head in a way Phil found outrageously adorable.

"It was quite easy, actually. Especially considering you were so out of it I thought you might have died."

"What can I say? You make a comfortable mattress." Dan grinned, biting his lip timidly.

"Well, I guess I'll have to spend the night more often," Phil winked cheekily, brushing Dan's hair away from his face.

"If my morning breath wasn't so bad, I'd kiss you." Dan grinned, leaning into Phil's touch the way a cat might when you pet it.

"Screw morning breath," Phil muttered, then leaning over and pressing a gentle kiss to Dan's lips.

The writer smiled contently, clutching to Phil's threadbare shirtfront as the kiss deepened.

…

"I'm not sure what I have as far as breakfast foods go…" Dan muttered, trying to block Phil's view from the nearly empty pantry. He felt really bad for not thinking ahead, he should have known there was a possibility of Phil sleeping over! " I could run down to the store and get a few things?" Dan suggested anxiously.

Phil nodded. "Sure, but only if I pay."

Dan sighed. "Phil…"

"Love," Dan blushed at the nickname, "don't stress. It's really not a big deal."

"I dunno…" Dan bit his lip, mulling over the idea as Phil watched with slight impatience.

"Not up for debate," Phil set his coffee down on Dan's desk, turning around. Pulling his wallet out of his bag, he handed his card to Dan. "Take it. End of discussion. Buy whatever you want."

Dan looked down in surprise, reluctantly taking it. "Are you sure you don't wanna just give me cash or something?"

Phil shrugged. "I don't have any cash on me. Besides, I trust you."

"You might rethink that when I sail away on my new yacht."

Phil laughed, rolling his eyes. "Whatever. Do you want me to come with you?"

"If you want," Dan shrugged, "but it'll only take a few minutes."

Phil nodded, thinking for a moment. "Would it be okay if I stayed here and showered?"

"Yeah, that'd be fine!"

"Great, thanks!" Phil grinned, running a hand through his hair. It really was in need of a wash.

Dan grinned. "Be back soon," Phil felt his face flush as Dan pressed a quick peck to his cheek, smiling coyly as he receded down the staircase.

Phil's gaze lingered on the spot where Dan had been for another minute or two, his heart racing. Even after their make-out session last night, a simple peck on the cheek left Phil with an intoxicating buzz. He shook his head, laughing softly to himself.

" _Damn_ …"

…

Dan hurried up the steps, two bags of groceries in hand and Phil's credit card in his back pocket. As he reached the landing, the little air he had left in his lungs from the tedious walk seemed to vanish.

Phil was leaning against the counter, scrolling through his phone. His hair was damp and pushed messily away from his face. He was wearing one of Dan's old t-shirts and the same sweatpants he had on last night. Dan couldn't be sure if it was the tighter clothing or the wet hair or both, but Phil looked beautiful in a way that few people could pull off.

"You need to borrow my clothes more often," The writer grinned, setting the groceries down on the table.

Phil looked up, raising an eyebrow. "I do?"

Dan approached him, brushing a damp strand of hair away from his head. "Yeah. You look really good," If Dan was trying to make Phil flustered, he failed miserably.

Phil only smirked, quickly spinning them around so it was Dan who was pressed against the counter. "Really? I find the shirt to be a bit small…or could it be…" Phil leaned in closer, "that's _why_ you like it so much?"

Dan inhaled sharply, praying Phil couldn't hear his heart thumping wildly in his chest. "I um…uh…" Dan swallowed, trying to think of something to say.

Phil only chuckled at his awkwardness, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before stepping away.

Dan was standing stiffly, his face hot and a sheepish grin tugging at his lips.

"So," Phil proceeded as if nothing had happened, "what did you get?"

"W-waffles," Dan tripped over his own tongue, "and bacon and toast. Oh, and here's your card,"

Phil took his card back, casting a glance inside the bags and nodding with approval. "Great choice! I'm famished."

Dan nodded in agreement, watching as Phil began ripping into the bags of food.

…

"I have to open the shop later…" Dan sighed, leaning his head on Phil's shoulder.

Phil frowned. "Do you _have_ to?"

"I really need the money." The writer said dejectedly.

Phil sighed but didn't argue. "Fine…"

"You could keep me company if you don't have anything better to do."

"I have to work tonight, but I'd love to hang around for a bit." Phil smiled, interlacing their fingers.

Dan smiled, leaning into Phil. "I was hoping you'd say that."

 **A/N: I'm sosososoososososoososo sorry this is so late, a lot came up :(**

 **May 13th**


	19. Ch 18: Vexation

**A/N: I'm sosososoososososoososo sorry this is so late, a lot came up :(**

 **May 13th**

Dan sighed dejectedly, reclining in his creaky office chair. He had no more than six days to submit a short story to The British Writing Community if he wanted to qualify for the 700-pound grand prize that he so desperately needed.

It wasn't a grueling task, a short story ran anywhere from 1,000 to 7,500 words, he could write that much in an hour or so. The real issue was making it more than just 'good.' His entry was going to compete against nearly 2,000 other young British authors, many of whom Dan was sure had degrees in creative writing. If he really wanted to win, he needed something better than 'good', he needed a miracle.

Dan licked his lips, letting out a deep sigh. Hoping his fingers might find the way on their own, he began typing.

 _"The biting cold stung my cheeks as I waded through the dense snow._ I tried— _"_

Dan balled the paper up, throwing it into the fire. He made several more failed attempts at writing something down before he finally got somewhere.

 _"My heart threatened to escape my chest as it beat wildly against my ribs. My breath was heavy and ragged, burning my throat as the frigid air traveled down to my cracking lungs. My calves were scorching with a white-hot pain that I was sure would leave its smoldering soreness for days, but I couldn't stop. I could hear the footsteps behind me drawing closer. Though I was sure it was my imagination, I could have sworn that the hot breath of a guard dog brushed against the back of my legs, its jaw open and ready to clamp down on my exposed skin."_

It was flawed, but it was a start. Hope rising in his chest, Dan continued writing.

…

An hour and a few pages later, Dan decided to take a short break. After writing the exposition, he had scribbled down a plot diagram in his notebook. The plot wasn't particularly difficult to write, but Dan knew he would have to fluff it up some if he wanted to win.

The writer stood up and stretched, trying to shake the stiffness out of his backbone. Dan turned his attention to the mantle, where he always left his phone before writing. He turned his phone on and squinted at the bright screen. There were a few notifications for emails, but what caught his attention was the text from Phil.

 _"Hey, I'm in the area and I was wondering if it would be okay to drop by for a bit?"_

The message was only ten minutes old, so Phil was probably still in town. Dan looked at the typewriter hesitantly. He had gotten a lot done and he had more days to write…Dan decided he could afford the distraction.

 _"Sure! Looking forward to it_ _?_ _"_

Phil replied, _"Great. Be there in 10."_

Slipping his phone into his pocket, Dan looked around the room, noting how messy it was. He busied himself with cleaning, deciding to start by throwing the pile of balled-up ideas into the fire.

…

The muffled thudding of footsteps could be heard from within the flat. Phil's face split in a grin as Dan peeked through the blinds.

"Hey, how are you?" Phil greeted him with a hug.

"Fine, you?" Dan escorted him inside.

"Good, just finished up some shopping. What have you been up to?"

I close up the shop a few hours ago," Dan started as they walked upstairs, "I've been writing my submission for that contest since."

"How's that going?"

Dan shrugged, taking a seat on the couch. "Right now, it's fine, but we'll see when I'm done.

"Can I read it?"

Dan looked up in surprise. "I, um…I haven't edited, it's just a draft."

"I understand." Phil smiled kindly. "Can I just see what you have so far?"

Dan hesitated, biting his lip timidly. After a moment of thought, he got up and walked to his typewriter, gathering his stuff together. "I hate watching people read my stuff," He muttered, handing Phil the documents.

"Then don't watch."

Dan shifted, giving a forced smile.

"Hey, I'm an artist too, I understand it's still a work in progress." Phil reached out and placed a hand on Dan's thigh, giving it a soft squeeze.

The writer smiled. "Thanks."

Phil turned his attention back to the paper. Dan watched nervously as Phil's brows furrowed, his eyes sparkling with interest. The man's eyes flicked back and forth across the sheet, and finally, he shuffled the papers, going on to page two. When he was done, he set the papers on the coffee table, turning to look at his friend. "Dan…" He shook his head, "this is amazing! It's written better than most books I've read, and you're not even done yet! How could you be concerned with losing?"

Dan beamed, sighing with relief. "Thank you. But I've met many other writers participating in the contest who are all much better than me. My chances of winning against them are minuscule."

Phil put an arm around Dan, pulling him closer. "Hey, even if you lose, I still think you'll have the best damn entry in the contest."

"But you haven't read anyone else's."

Phil grinned. "Exactly. I don't need to know you're superior."

Dan shook his head, laughing dryly. "I sure hope the judges feel that way."

"It'll work out."

Dan sighed. "You don't understand, I have to win this. That 700 pounds is the only way I stand a chance of paying off my bills."

Phil hesitated, thinking for a second. "When do you have to pay the money by?"

"The 29th."

"And when is the contest over?"

Dan averted his gaze. "The 20th…."

"But that only leaves nine days for the judges to sort through everything and pick a winner…if you win, are you even sure you'll get paid in time?"

"I'm not sure of anything, Phil…" Dan ran a hand down his face, Sighing deeply. "Even if I did win, I'd still be a more than a hundred short of what I owed, and that's not including things like groceries or phone bills. In the slim chance that I do manage to cover the costs, what then? It's just gonna be another month of struggling to make payments and stressing over how the hell I'm gonna make it. The minute I get one thing paid off there's another thing looming over my head." Dan's tone was getting more distressed with each word. "I was doing fine for a while; I actually had enough to make a few extra purchases here and there. Then I f*cked myself over and ended right back up where I was before: pinching pennies and selling my stuff just to buy dinner," Dan spat bitterly.

"Hey," Phil spoke soothingly. "It will work out."

"Shut up," Dan snapped, "you don't know that."

Phil recoiled his arm, surprised at Dan's sharp tongue.

"I'm so sick of all that 'everything will be okay' bullshit. You wanna know why?" Dan scooted away, looking irately at Phil. "Because it won't. It's not like after years of struggling God will drop a million quid in my mailbox. It doesn't work like that."

"Okay, I'm sorry." Phil held his hands up defensively. "I just don't know what else to say."

Dan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I know, I'm sorry… I usually don't act like that. It's just—" Dan paused, his throat burning. "I've struggled financially my entire life and I'm just so tired of it! I feel like I can't do anything by myself. And I know I should find a better job with higher wages, but I've been visiting this place my entire life and it's the only bookstore in town. Owning this place was always a dream of mine, I could never give up on it." Dan's voice broke.

Phil, still a bit shaken from being snapped at, watched in alarm as a few tears fell from Dan's eyes. "Dan…Hey, sweetheart..." Phil reached out to pull him into a hug, which gratefully accepted.

"I'm sorry," Dan hurriedly wiped the tears from his eyes. "You must think I'm pathetic."

"I think you're reacting the way any of us would. You have a very important deadline and you're crumbling under the pressure." Dan remained silent, and Phil continued. "I know you don't like asking for help, but sometimes we can't do everything alone. Even if you won't let me help you cover some bills, which is an offer that still stands, I want to be there to support you." Phil tightened his grip on the writer's shoulders.

Dan lifted his head up, locking eyes with the painter. He leaned forward, pressing a soft, tender kiss on his lips. "Thank you," he whispered, leaning away. "I'm really sorry."

Phil cupped Dan's face, running a thumb over his tear-streaked cheeks. "Don't worry about it, love."

…

Dan excused himself to the bathroom, taking a few minutes to regain his composure. While waiting for the man's return, Phil felt his pocket buzz. He pulled out his phone and a frown tugged on his mouth as he read the notification.

 _Dad: You missed the meeting._

Phil sighed, his thumbs hovering over the screen before he replied.

 _Me: I never said I was coming._

 _Dad: I assumed you understood how important this was?_

 _Me: This is your job, Dad. Not mine._

Not bothering to read the response, Phil shoved his phone back into his pocket, reclining on the cushions with a sigh.

 **A/N: Is my writing genuinely good? Don't flatter me, I need a real answer. I don't know if it's because I read it so much or if I'm actually bad, but I feel like I use the same sentence structure over and over again, and I don't add enough detail. Do I need more detail?**


	20. Ch 19: Cafune

**A/N: I'm writing a cute filler because I have to update, and the real chapter isn't working out! Deal with it (I'm actually really sorry)! Being a fanfic writer is the equivalent of having homework all the time rip**

 **This is super short but kinda has some (sorta) important stuff in it.**

 **May 15th**

Phil ran his hand through Dan's soft curls, marveling at how they sprung right back into place after pulled. The writer had his head in Phil's lap and was drifting in and out of sleep to the sound of the gentle rain. Phil had stopped by several hours ago with pizza, planning on no more than a quick lunch together, but ended up staying late into the afternoon.

"Are you cold?" Phil asked, smoothing Dan's hair away from his forehead.

He nodded, and Phil grabbed a blanket from the end of the couch. Unfurling the cover with a quick jerk of his hand, Phil draped it over Dan.

"Thanks," he mumbled, playing with the hem of Phil's shirt.

The little flat fell silent, the only noise the constant pitter-patter of raindrops on the roof. It was one of those days where the whole world felt lazy. The hours seemed to drag on and on, the light-grey sky standing still and crying softly onto the earth. Dan had always enjoyed this type of weather. He found that he liked it even more when it was accompanied by the sensation of Phil's fingers running through his hair.

"Phil?" Dan murmured through the sleepy haze clouding his mind.

"Hmm?"

"Will you be my boyfriend?"

Phil stiffened, his heart skipping a beat. Memories of last year flashed in his mind and filled his chest with a plummeting anxiety. He so desperately wanted to trust Dan. He was sweet, funny, caring, down-to-earth—everything that Phil looked for in a partner. But Matthew had been like that too, just as funny and kind as Dan, but with a sole as black as pitch.

"Phil?" Dan rolled over, looking up at the artist. "Are you alright?"

Phil nodded, closing his eyes. "Yeah, sorry. I just…"

Dan's heart sank. "If you don't want to be in a relationship with me, just say it."

"No, no! It's not like that. I just…" Phil hesitated, "I have a bad experience with dating."

Dan sat up, his hair flopping messily over his forehead. "We don't have to label this if you're not ready."

Phil shook his head. "No, it's okay. I-I want to be your boyfriend." Dan's eyes lit up with a smile, and Phil's heart melted.

"Really?"

Phil nodded, brushing a stray curl back into place. "Definitely."

"Great! I um…" Dan giggled softly, "I'm glad."

"Me too." Phil smiled. The knot of anxiety in his stomach began to unwind as Dan leaned forward and placed a quick peck on his lips.

The writer wrapped his arms around Phil, pulling him back onto the couch and burrowing himself into his chest. Draping an arm lightly across his boyfriend, Phil kissed him on the forehead.

As scared as he was of getting hurt again, he struggled to imagine how Dan could ever betray him in the way Matthew had. There was a light behind the writer's eyes that hadn't been there in his ex-lover. A sense of humanity. Phil just had to hope it wasn't a façade.

 **A/N: cafune - the act of lovingly running your fingers through your lover's hair**


	21. Ch 20: Candor

**A/N: What's this? I actually,,,write a successful chapter in two days?**

 **May 17th**

Dan let out a loud laugh, nearly choking on his drink. "You—you—" He was cut off by his own laughter.

"I spilled wine all over her, it was a nightmare!" Phil laughed. "I could have sworn she was going to strangle me right there."

Dan wiped the water dribbling down his chin, still laughing. "Oh, gosh…you're a mess."

Phil laughed, taking the checkbook from their waitress as she stopped by the table.

"Do you want to split the costs?" Dan asked.

Phil glanced up skeptically, putting his credit card in the book. "Do I have to answer that?" He handed it to the blonde girl and she quickly scurried off.

Dan shrugged, looking down. "Thought I'd at least offer…"

The artist smiled, taking his lover's hand over the table. "How's the story coming?" Phil asked, running his fingers over Dan's knuckles.

"I've almost finished. Still needs lots of editing."

"I'm sure it will be brilliant," Phil said.

Dan beamed, pulling his hands back as the waitress returned.

She smiled knowingly, returning Phil's card. "You two have a nice evening."

"You too," the men responded in unison, gathering their things.

"Do you wanna crash at my place tonight?" Dan intertwined their fingers as they left Olive Garden. (#notspon)

"Sure. I just need a spare toothbrush…" Phil trailed off, stopping in his tracks.

Dan followed his gaze to a sleek black car. The windows were tinted but he could see the silhouette of someone in the back seat watching them.

Phil closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath. "Actually, I don't think I can."

"What, why? Who is that?"

Phil held a finger up to the car, signaling the person to wait, then turned back to Dan. "I just remembered my dad wants me to come home tonight. My great aunt isn't doing well, and we were going to spend the evening with her."

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Dan frowned. "I hope she gets better."

Phil smiled, trying to suppress the guilt rising in his stomach. "Thank you, me too. I'll see you soon?"

"Drop by whenever."

Phil smiled, cupping Dan's face and pressing a slow kiss to his lips. "Have a nice night."

Dan chewed on the side of his cheek as Phil turned and walked to the car, sliding into the backseat next to his father. With dozens of questions swirling in his mind, Dan began to walk home.

…

"How the hell did you know I was here? I thought I got that stupid tracker taken off my phone." Phil muttered, buckling his seatbelt as the chauffeur drove off.

"I was on the way to your house when I saw your car out front." Phil's father, a greying man with cold, blue eyes, gave his son a tight-lipped smile. "So that's Dan?"

"Yes, and we were having a nice evening before you had to drag me off to your stupid meeting," Phil spoke coolly, looking out the window.

"Don't be immature, Phil. It's embarrassing to the both of us." Phil remained silent, and his father continued, "Besides, this meeting is important. If we do well, we can get Mr. Winthrow as our client. Do you have any idea how much money he spends on goods from HomeSmart per year? If we can convince him we have better deals, we'll make almost twenty-five percent more than we made last year!"

Phil turned to face him. "Twenty-five percent?"

"Twenty-five percent." Mr. Lester spoke with satisfaction. "You're one of our best salesmen, Phil. We really need you tonight."

"I don't even work for you."

"Not yet, at least."

Phil sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'll help you tonight. But I can't keep doing this. It's your company, not mine. I'm trying to start my own life doing what I love, spending time with someone I—" Phil paused, "with someone I like. I can't do this if you keep pulling me back into your work."

"Still set on marriage?" Mr. Lester smiled grimly. "I'm surprised you'd want to go that route again after last time."

"I'm not going to let one bad experience ruin my future!" Phil snapped, glaring out the window. "Besides, you cheated on Mum and she still married you…"

Mr. Lester pursed his lips. "That is an entirely different situation and none of your concern."

"Whatever…"

"And I still think you should look at working with me full time. I know you might not like it now, but it's a great career and I could get you in a very high position right away."

"I don't want to be a businessman, I want to be an artist."

Mr. Lester sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And I support you on that, but don't you think you'd be better off working in a more…stable career?"

"Better off? Sure. Happier? No."

Mr. Lester stared at his son for a moment, letting out a soft laugh. "You'll come to your senses one day."

Phil let out a huff of amusement. "Doubt it…"

"I was just like you, you know? I used to hate business." Mr. Lester gazed out the window. "Then one of my father's friends let me help him with a project for an internship. I became addicted to it. It's like a game, doing everything you can to get client after client, constantly having to protect your business from dangers, working to rise to the top."

"It sounds stressful."

"Not if you're good at it."

Phil rolled his eyes. "I'm not like you."

Mr. Lester chuckled. "You say that, but I can see the spark that lights up in your eyes when you're about to score a new client. I know you love this just as much as I do."

Phil didn't respond, staring blankly out at the passing cars.

 **…**

 **May 18th**

A light breeze tousled Phil's hair as he knocked on Dan's door, waiting patiently. His phone buzzed a second later and he pulled it out to read the message.

Dan: I'm lazy, let yourself in

The artist chuckled to himself, opening the door. He was hit with the aroma of old books, a smell he had come to love, as he stepped inside the shop and hurried upstairs.

"Hey," Dan said, looking up from his typewriter.

"Hi." Phil smiled, pressing a quick kiss to Dan's lips. "How's the writing going?"

"Fine." Dan sighed, turning back to the papers. "How's your aunt?"

"Oh, um, she's okay, considering her health."

"What's wrong with her?"

Phil swallowed. "Um, cancer. Brain cancer."

Dan stared at him for a moment, his expression unreadable, then turned back to his work. "I hope she recovers."

Phil nodded slowly, taking a seat on the couch. "So…are you done writing?"

"Pretty much. I'm at the editing stage now."

"That's good," Phil grinned, "when can I read it?"

"Probably in a day or so. I'm gonna be turning it in pretty last minute. I'll have to type it up on a library computer to email it in."

"Why don't you just use mine?" Phil suggested. "The ones at the library are ancient, it'd be much faster."

"Oh. Yeah, thanks." Dan smiled, glancing up from his typewriter. His gaze lingered on Phil and he shifted in his seat. "Hey, Phil?"

Phil looked up from the book he was thumbing through. "Yeah?"

"Are you lying to me?"

Phil froze. "Am, am I what?"

Dan bit his lip, looking at him timidly. "It's just…sometimes you say things that contradict with other things you've told me, or you'll be telling me something, but you get nervous and stop making eye-contact."

"I don't know what you mean," Phil spoke stiffly.

Dan sighed, looking sadly at Phil. "Your dad doesn't just work for Reskd, he's the chairman. He has a net worth of four billion pounds."

Phil sighed, closing his eyes. "How did you find out?"

"I knew something was off, so I googled your name and ended up stumbling across him."

"You googled me?"

Dan blushed, "I-I know it's a creepy thing to do but I was worried you were pretending to be someone else or something like that. What if I googled 'Phil Lester' only to find out he was a doctor who died three years ago, and you were actually a crazy man impersonating him?"

Phil laughed dryly. "I can assure you that I'm not."

Dan averted his gaze, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's obvious from the way you dress that you have a lot of money, and don't even get me started on all the dinner dates you pay for; I just can't understand why you'd lie about that." Dan looked back up at him.

Phil sighed, opening his arms. "Come here."

The writer stood up, taking a seat next to Phil and leaning into his embrace.

"While the assumption that all rich people are brats is a nuisance, what's even worse is the number of gold diggers I've met," Phil began. "I'm not just talking about boyfriends and girlfriends, platonic relationships, too. Most of my school friends only liked me for my money, and as much as I enjoyed being popular, I hated knowing that none of them really cared about me. "

Dan reached over to grab his lover's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Phil gave the younger man an appreciative glance as he continued his story. "What hurt even more was dating someone for months only to find out they only cared about my money. When I found out my most recent ex was using me, I was destroyed. I promised myself I would try and hide my family's wealth from friends and lovers until I was sure they liked me for who I am. Evidently, I did a pretty bad job." Phil laughed softly. "But that's why I lied to you. I was afraid you'd only date me for my money then break my heart."

Dan looked up, his gaze drifting down to Phil's lips. He slid a hand around his jaw, pulling him forward and kissing him slowly. "That'd never happen," He whispered as he pulled away.

Phil rested their foreheads together. "I shouldn't have lied to you."

"I don't blame you. I can't even imagine what that must be like." Dan pulled Phil back onto the couch and buried his face into his chest. His cologne smelt very good, Dan noticed. Or maybe it was just him. Phil seemed like one of those people that somehow always looked and smelt good.

"It's lonely," Phil exhaled, hooking a leg over Dan's. "Which is funny, considering I'm always surrounded by so many people."

"Well, you don't have to be lonely anymore," Dan said. "You've got me."

Phil smiled warmly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Thank you."

Dan brought a hand to his boyfriend's chest, tracing circles over the fabric. "I know I'm acting pretty calm right now, but I actually shat myself last night when I read your dad's net worth."

 **A/N: I'm so bad at endings rip**


	22. Ch 21: Propertied

**A/N: I used the playboy mansion as inspiration for the outside of Phil's house lmao**

 **This is over 2k words!**

 **May 19th**

"I promise I'll have the money, I just can't assure you that it'll be by the twenty-ninth."

Mrs. Barns pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing deeply. "Dan—"

"I know, I know, I don't like it any more than you do. But please," Dan begged, "Just, give me a few days."

The woman closed her eyes, sighing deeply. "You promise you'll have it?"

"I promise," Dan averted his gaze, knowing this wasn't entirely true

"Three days." The landlady reclined in her seat, shuffling the papers in front of her. "I will give you three extra days and nothing more."

Dan let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you so much, really."

"I'm only doing this because of your grandfather," The woman's voice was stern, but her gaze softened, "I know he wouldn't want you to lose the place."

Dan swallowed his guilt. "Thank you."

 **May 20th, final day to submit short stories.**

"Sorry I couldn't get you yesterday, I would have if it weren't for all the work my dad gave me," Phil smiled up at Dan as he clambered into the passenger seat.

"Don't worry about it, I have until midnight to submit the story." Dan cupped Phil's cheek, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "It's not like you _had_ to let me use your computer."

"I figured you'd want a quiet place to work. Besides," Phil began driving, casting a glance at his boyfriend, "any excuse to see you."

"You're a dork," Dan grinned, his smile growing as Phil took a hand off the wheel to rest it on his thigh.

Phil's house was farther away than Dan had thought. They had left the town miles ago and were still driving through the countryside.

"Do you have to drive this far every time you come to see me?" Dan asked.

"Sometimes I stay in the studio, which is a bit closer, but yeah, usually."

"Phil! This is so far!" Dan exclaimed.

"It's not that bad."

"It's already been like, what, thirty minutes? You came to see me four times last week, that's an hour drive for each trip! Oh gosh, the gas money…"

"Dan," Phil slowed the car down, turning to look at the man. "It's fine. I like visiting you, and I don't care how long it takes," He cast a quick glance back at the road. "Don't worry about it."

Dan sighed, muttering a reluctant "Fine."

...

Before long, the car had passed through a wrought-iron gate and was driving up an unusually long driveway. As they approached the top, Dan's jaw dropped open. Though he had been impressed by the studio, it was nothing compared to the mansion that sat before him.

The building looked old-fashioned, but modern touches here and there made it sleek and sophisticated. The house was big enough to fit Dan's small flat in it several times, stretching generously across the property. The pale brick walls supported large windows, some of which stretched from ceiling to floor. A gorgeous garden wrapped around the right side of the building, trailing off into the backyard. As far as Dan could tell, the property stretched on for several acres.

The grand, oak doors swung open and a man in a well-pressed uniform hurried out.

"I told him not to wear the suit…" Phil grumbled, staring at the butler with a tired, yet amused expression.

Dan was unable to pry his gaze from the house, even as the car door was opened and he was ushered out. "Holy shit…" he muttered softly.

Phil gave a forced smile, shutting the car door behind him. "Shall we go inside? Your story isn't going to type itself."

Dan nodded slowly, his mouth still hanging open. "Yeah…yeah sure…"

"Gerrund, can you move the car, please?" Phil placed a hand on Dan's back, urging him towards the house.

With a curt nod, the butler hurried to the driver's side.

…

The inside of the house was no less grand than the outside: a massive chandelier hung over the main entrance, lighting up the staircase. The polished marble floors stretched down several corridors, each hall decorated with gorgeous wallpaper and art.

Dan's eyes were the size of saucers, his mouth hanging open still. "Holy shit."

Phil laughed softly, grabbing his hand. "You can use the computer in my room, c'mon."

Dan resembled a child in a candy shop as he was led up the staircase and down the hall. He seemed utterly overwhelmed by the setting.

"Are those your paintings?" Dan pointed to the large frames hung across the wall.

Phil laughed, but there was a note of bitterness behind it. "No, my father would never allow any of my work to be hung out here."

Dan frowned, giving Phil's hand a gentle squeeze. "I'm sorry."

Phil shook his head dismissively. "It's not your fault he's materialistic."

The two stopped in front of a door with a sloppily written "P" on it. It appeared to be written in sharpie and looked faded, as if someone had tried to get rid of it. Phil pushed the door open and they walked inside.

Phil's room was just as grand as the rest of the house, but not as flamboyant. A sizable chandelier hung above a large bed. The walls were a modest, light-blue pattern, complementing the wooden floors. A large bed was covered with a plain, grey duvet, the same cover of the large rug underneath their feet.

"Just over here," Phil motioned to the left side of the room where a tidy desk sat next to a few bookshelves.

Dan took a seat in the chair, leaning back. It was much nicer than his chair—the leather wasn't torn and it didn't squeak.

The computer was something Dan could only ever dream of having, probably costing more than all the furniture in his bedroom combined. He ran a hand over its sleek keyboard

"Here, I'll open Word," Phil leaned over Dan, pulling the program up. "Do you need anything? Something to eat or drink?"

Dan shook his head, pulling the papers out of his bag. "No, thank you though."

Phil massaged Dan's shoulders gently. "I'm going to work on some sketches while you write, if you need me I'll be just down the hall, okay?"

Dan nodded, staring in slight awe at the computer. "Okay."

"I'll check in in a bit." Phil leaned down, pressing a kiss to his hair.

…

"He probably thinks I'm stuck up," Phil grunted, aggressively sharpening his pencil.

"I doubt that Mr. Howell feels that way," Gerrund muttered, brushing Phil's pencil shavings into a trashcan.

Phil laughed dryly. "You want to know what kind of people live by themselves in huge, expensive houses? Douchebags."

"That is simply a stereotype, sir. I'm sure Mr. Howell knows you're not like that."

Phil sighed, glaring down at his blank sheet of paper. I'm just tired of it, you know? Everyone assumes I'm just like my parents: I want to become the best businessman out there and buy a bunch of overpriced, useless shit to fill the spaces where emotion should be."

Gerrund frowned. "Now, you know better than to talk about your parents that way. They love you very much."

"Fine, I'll give them that much. But you can't deny that owning four mansions and seven sports cars is too much for a family of three." The butler remained quiet, and Phil continued. "People are dying, Gerrund! We could be using our money to help the homeless or donate to charities! The furniture in the lounge alone is enough to pay for someone's college tuition." Phil began scribbling heatedly across the paper.

"If you feel so passionately about this, why don't you talk to them?"

Phil shook his head. "You think I haven't tried? Every time it's the same 'We earned it, they didn't' excuse. It's pathetic."

Gerrund opened his mouth a few times before he spoke again, his words hesitant. "I don't know what to tell you about your parents—your father is a hard-headed man, after all—but I wouldn't worry about Mr. Howell. While this type of lifestyle is the opposite of what he's been living his whole life, he seems very enthusiastic about experiencing something new."

Phil sighed, glancing nervously up at his butler. "Do you think I should have waited longer before telling Dan about my family?"

"Do _you_?"

"I dunno, I just…" Phil set his pencil down, leaning back in his seat. "He seems so excited by all of this, I don't want him to end up like Mathew."

Gerrund pulled a chair up next to Phil, taking a seat. "My dear boy, the first thing I noticed about Dan was the way he looks at you; he gets this certain light in his eyes that was never there with Matthew." The old man smiled kindly. "He really does care about you." The corner of Phil's mouth turned up, and Gerrund continued. "I haven't told you this, but I never did like Matthew. The emotion on his face when he talked to me was always so bored…fake…dead. Even with you, he seemed cold." Gerrund paused, his tone gentle. "I just wish I would have said something."

"Don't blame yourself for my mistakes." Phil said softly. "I wouldn't have listened anyway; your intervention would have just caused more problems."

The old butler gave Phil a kind smile, his eyes twinkling. "I suppose so."

Before either of the men could say anything else, there was a soft knock at the door. "Phil?"

"Hey, what's up?" Phil spun around in his seat.

"I'm done, would you mind proof-reading it before I send it off?"

"Yeah, course." Phil stood up, casting a quick smile at the butler as he followed Dan out.

…

Dan sat on the edge of Phil's bed, watching nervously as he read over the story. "I know the part about the door is a bit weird, but I had to stay within the word limit… the description of the setting could be better…do you think I spend too much time talking about the tree? I didn't know if I should—"

"Dan," Phil spun around in his chair, an amused look on his face, "stop worrying, it's brilliant, I love it!"

Dan grinned, sighing in relief.

"I love your use of imagery, _especially_ in the door part." Phil grinned, getting up from his seat. "Go ahead and submit it."

Dan hurried over to the computer, pulling up the contest site and clicking on their email. "I sure am glad to get this over with..."

Phil stretched out on the bed, watching as Dan eagerly submitted his work. After a few moments, the man spun around in the swivel chair, smiling with accomplishment.

"Come here," Phil grinned, patting the bed next to him.

Dan crawled on the duvet, lying as close as he could to his boyfriend.

"You did great and I'm proud of you," Phil pressed a kiss to Dan's forehead, smoothing back his hair.

"Thank you," Dan murmured. He wrapped his arms tightly around Phil, breathing deeply.

After lying in silence for a few moments, Dan spoke: "Your house is so pretty. You must love living here."

Phil shrugged. "Eh."

"Do you not like it?"

"It's alright, I guess."

Dan's eyes bulged. "You guess? Dude, this place is incredible!"

"Well, yeah, it's gorgeous, but it's just so big. It's meant for a family, not a man living on his own. Hell, even when I lived with my parents here, it never felt like home. It's always just been a house to me." Phil sighed, tracing his fingers up and down Dan's arm. "Even after living here for my whole life, I still feel like I can't get comfortable. That's why I like your place so much; it's just so cozy and relaxed."

Dan gave a huff of amusement. "If I lived in a place like this, I'd never complain."

Phil sat up, looking down at his boyfriend. "I'm not ungrateful for all this, I just wish my family would spend money in more practical ways," he said defensively.

The writer looked up in surprise. "I never said you were..."

"I'm sorry," Phil shook his head, closing his eyes for a second, "I just don't want you to think I'm really stuck up or anything."

Dan laughed, wrapping his arms around Phil and pulling him back down. "I'd never think that. You're one of the most down-to-earth people I've ever met."

"Dan…" Phil gushed. "Thank you."

Dan leaned forward, pressing a gentle peck to Phil's lips. He made a noise of surprise as the artist slid a hand around to the back of his neck, deepening the kiss. Their lips moved against one another's until their mouths seemed to melt together. Phil pushed himself on top of Dan, running his hand through the other boy's hair and twisting the strands around his fingers. Dan moved his hands to Phil's, waist his heart pounding madly in his chest.

After a moment more, Phil pulled away, his breath heavy. "Stay for dinner?" he asked , brushing the hair back from Dan's forehead. His lips were fuller than before and had a dusky pink tint to them.

The younger man nodded, his cheeks flushed. "Yeah. Definitely."

 **A/N: I think its really cool that everyone who is reading this envisions the story differently. Like I imagine the setting to look a certain way, but no one else imagines it exactly the same.**


	23. Ch 22: Remedial

**A/N: the summer's almost here which means I can update more!**

Phil shifted in the worn, leather chair, his eyes darting around the waiting area. He had never been a very anxious person, but just being in this room sent his mind back eleven months.

"Philip Lester?" A stern looking woman Phil didn't recognize poked her head out of the office. Phil quickly stood up, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants. "Dr. Henderson is waiting for you in room three, just through that door."

The artist nodded, making his way to the entrance.

The place looked the same as it had six months ago: cheesy motivational posters hung on the wall, artificial potted plants covered in dust sat in every corner, even the wastebasket seemed to be just as full as it was during Phil's last appointment.

A short, sandy-haired man poked his head out of a doorway. "Mr. Lester! Please, come in."

Phil swallowed, following the man into his office.

"How are you doing? Well, we'll get to that later. Please, take a seat."

"It's nice to see you again, doctor. How have you been?" Phil took a seat on the cushiony chair, his eyes darting around the office. He noticed an abundance of baby pictures on the wall and remembered Dr. Henderson mentioning he had a grandchild on the way.

"Oh, I'm fine! Kind of you to ask. It's nice to change things up after a day of asking other people how they are," The doctor chuckled softly, closing the door behind him. "So, back for your six-month check-up, I presume?"

"Yes, sir."

"Right, well," The doctor skimmed over a paper on his clipboard, then looked up with a smile. "Looks like this will be your last appointment—unless you feel that you need to extend our time…?"

"That won't be necessary."

"Good, good. Though I will miss our talks."

Phil forced a smile, trying to push down the churning in his stomach.

"Ah, well. Enough of that. So, how have you been feeling?"

"Physically or mentally?"

"Both."

Phil brought a hand up to his shoulder, massaging it gently. "Well…my shoulder has gotten a lot better—it doesn't hurt to move my arm anymore, I just can't do any heavy lifting."

"Well, that's wonderful!" The doctor scribbled something down in his notebook. "I was worried you might never get rid of that ache."

"Yeah, I guess I got pretty lucky…" Phil trailed off.

After a moment of quiet, the doctor cleared his throat. "How about mentally? Do you feel you're making a full recovery?"

"I think so, yeah. The nightmares have stopped. I mean, I still have them once a month or so, but they're definitely less frequent than the last time we talked."

"Excellent…" More writing. "How do you feel about the situation? Are you angry, sad, scared…?"

Phil sighed, closing his eyes. Honestly, He hadn't thought about it. He hadn't wanted to think about anything having to do with Matthew, much less go on a spiritual journey to see how he felt about him. "I dunno… I'm just tired, I guess. I want the whole thing to be over, but with the court case still open I feel like I can't let go of it."

"I see…" Dr. Henderson frowned, crossing his legs. "I was wondering if everything had been settled yet."

Phil rubbed his face. "They're still working on it. Gosh, it's just…I feel like every time the end of it is in sight, something happens. The judge gets sick, they lose the file, there's a complication with the documents. I just want it to be over."

"I understand," The doctor didn't write anything this time, he just nodded sympathetically. "Unfortunately, this is just something that will have to be solved over time. It's out of your hands and you shouldn't stress about it too much; just take comfort in knowing one day it will be over."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Phil said, though this did little to comfort him.

"So, what about your love life? Have you met anyone new?"

Despite his gloomy mood, Phil felt the corner of his mouth turn up. "Yeah, actually. Dan."

"Can you tell me about him?"

Phil thought for a moment. "He's beautiful, funny, kind, down-to-earth… I really like him, but…" Phil paused for a long time. "I'm scared he's going to end up like Matthew. And I know he won't because he's nothing like that, but I can't get rid of this paranoia that he doesn't care about me. I didn't even tell him about how wealthy my family is—I tried to hide it. I mean, I did a pretty bad job of lying, but I don't know… I just couldn't bring myself to tell him. I wanted to make sure he liked me for who I am. Even now, after I've seen how much he cares about me, I still have my doubts."

"Does he know about the Matthew Situation?"

"No."

"Do you plan on telling him?"

Phil shrugged, dragging his foot across the old carpet. "Eventually. I mean, we haven't even been together for a whole month. I don't want to tell him my life story if things don't work out."

The therapist raised his eyebrows. "So, he doesn't know about the court case or your relationship to Matthew?"

"He knows I was in an unhealthy relationship, but that's about it."

"Phil, you know I don't want to rush your path to recovery, but don't you think he should know that you're—"

"I'll tell him when I'm ready," Phil spoke sternly, straightening up. "Besides, I might as well wait till after court. It won't matter then anyway."

Dr. Henderson looked skeptical but said no more on the issue. "Very well. How is your relationship with your parents?"

"The same as always: they're both too caught up with work to talk to me for longer than five minutes. My mum is in New York right now working on her newest fashion project, but my dad is still here. He keeps trying to get me to sign a contract to work for him."

"Do you want to?"

"Not really. I want to become an artist—sell paintings, do commissions, make a living out of that…but, I don't know." Phil pinched the bridge of his nose. "I keep saying that then going into work anyway."

Dr. Henderson's thick brows furrowed. "What exactly is your relationship to the company?"

"Well, I'm technically registered as an intern, but I have a much higher position than any intern would ever get. Plus, I'm being paid—not by the company, but by my father. It's complicated."

"He pays you?"

"Yeah. I mean, I work pretty hard, and my father is a reasonable man. I guess he thought it was only fair."

The doctor noddes, giving Phil a quizzical look. "If being a businessman isn't what you want in life, why do you think you keep working with him?"

"I'm good at it?" Phil shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "And, as much as I hate to admit it, I kinda like business. It's stressful and tiresome and frustrates the hell out of me, but my dad is right: it has a certain addicting element." The artist's eyes were unfocused, staring at nothing in particular. "I've always flatly refused my dad's offer to work for the corporation, but now… the more I think about it the more I can see myself working there." Phil looked up at Dr. Henderson. "I don't know what I want anymore."

The doctor gave Phil a gentle smile. "I can remember when I was your age; I wasn't quite sure what I wanted to do either. I think the best thing right now is to not stress. Don't push yourself to get an answer, just wait and see how you feel in a few months. You never know, you might find some great inspiration to start painting, or you might find yourself realizing you'd be better off with the company."

Phil nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. Henderson was right: he was in no rush to make a decision. "Thank you."

"Just doing my job." The older man chuckled, standing up. "I know this is our last meeting, but I encourage you to check up sometime, let me know how you're doing."

Phil smiled, reaching out to shake the therapist's hand. "Of course. Again, thank you."

"Mr. Lester?" Phil had only made it a few feet out the door when Dr. Henderson called his name. "I know it's hard to get back into a relationship after going through something like you did, but I encourage you to give Dan a chance—I think he will be good for you."

Phil nodded, giving the man a small smile. "Yeah, I will."

 **A/N: I love leaving my readers confused ;)**


	24. Ch 23: Exiguity

**A/N: Sorry it's been so long. It's summer now so I'm going to try really hard to get a lot done.**

 **May 31** **st**

With every tick the old grandfather clock made, Dan became increasingly agitated. He had received an email awhile back that the results of the writing competition would be emailed to all the contestants on May 31st. Dan was shocked they were able to work so quickly, but grateful nonetheless.

"That will be 10.92," Dan smiled at the customer, bagging her book.

She fished the money out of her wallet, sliding it across the counter. "Thank you."

Dan stuck the money in the cashier then handed the lady her change. "Of course. Have a nice day."

"You too!"

Dan sighed, eyes following her as she left the store. He was almost sad to see her go—she was the first person to come in all day and he was getting quite lonely.

Craving distraction from the anticipation he had been feeling all morning, the writer busied himself with dusting off some of the bookshelves.

He had only been working for a few moments when his phone buzzed with a text.

 _Phil: Hey, I know this is short notice but I'm gonna be traveling a lot these next few days, so I might be hard to reach. I'm really sorry, I just found out myself. I wish I could be there when you get the results, but my dad really needs me in nyc. I know you'll do well xx_

Dan sighed, frowning at his phone.

 _Dan: Yeah, it's no problem. I understand. I'll text you when I get the email_

 _Phil: Are you mad?_

 _Dan: not really. Just a bit upset, I guess. I miss you_

 _Phil: I miss you too x_

 _Phil: again, I'm really sorry. I can make it up to you when I get back, take you out to dinner? Or we could just hang out your place or something_

 _"If I even have a place when you get back…"_ Dan wanted to say.

 _Dan: I'd like that :)_

 _Phil: great! I need to get packed. talk to you later, love_

 _Dan: ttyl x_

Dan sighed, slipping his phone into his pocket. " _Maybe it's better that Phil won't be here,"_ Dan thought, " _I won't risk having a breakdown in front of him if I lose."_

…

As the sun sank lower and lower in the sky, Dan's anxiety levels rose. He still hadn't gotten the email, which meant it had to be going out this evening.

"C'mon…" He muttered, refreshing the app for the umpteenth time in the past five minutes.

After another fruitless attempt, Dan sighed, turning off his phone and setting it on the counter. "Okay. I'm gonna close up, have dinner, and _then_ I'll check." He decided. As he walked around and turned off the lamps, he could feel the weight of the phone in his pocket growing heavier and heavier. He wanted to check so bad… The writer stopped as he was reaching for the device. "Dinner first," He scolded himself.

…

Dan quickly realized he didn't have much of an appetite. He stared through his instant noodles, poking absent-mindedly at them with a fork. Finally, he stuck the container in the fridge and made his way to the couch.

Plopping down, Dan pulled his phone out again, staring at it for a few seconds before unlocking it and opening his Gmail app.

A new message loaded:

 _Young British Authors' Contest Results_

Dan felt his stomach drop. This was it. This email literally decided his fate.

With shaking hands, Dan tapped on the screen. He felt like he was going to be sick. For a moment, he even considered just putting the phone down and coming back later, but he couldn't. Not after waiting for so long.

The page finally loaded to reveal a few paragraphs congratulating everyone on entering and thanking them for their support. Dan looked over the text until he found the section that included the winners. Taking a deep breath, he began to read.

For several minutes, the writer was still. His eyes were glazed over, and his mind was blank as he skimmed over the paragraph, reading it over and over again until the letters on the page seemed to melt into meaningless symbols.

Finally, something in his brain clicked.

"FUCK!" Dan turned, throwing his phone as hard as he could across the room where it bounced off the wall and clattered onto the rug.

The writer gasped for breath as he fell to the ground, his shoulders heaving. An aggravated yell sounded from his throat. He ran his hands through his hair, pulling fistfuls of it tightly. "No, no, no no, no…" he muttered quietly, letting out a shaky breath. "This can't…no." He began to sob. Hard, desperate, pitiful sobbing that shook his body with each breath.

 _"I've tried so hard to work myself up from this…"_ Dan thought, " _this poverty I've been in my whole life…this can't be it…how can I… what will I do… I'm gonna lose everything. The store. My flat."_ The writer's breathing became heavier, his fingers digging into the carpet. " _This is it for me… Pathetic. Useless. That's all I've proven to be…_ " His thoughts began to overlap, blending into a deafening white-noise. _Can't write for shit. Losing everything. What would your grandpa say? No money. Just like your mother. Wasted all your savings on a year of university. All these books. Homeless. Broke. Alone. Worthless, fucking worthless. What does Phil see in you? Poor. Never stood a chance. Poverty cycle. You're going to lose your house. Everyone saw this coming. Living on the streets. Eviction. Debt. No where to stay. You told your mum things would be different."_

Dan sobbed harder, his cries drifting off into the night.

…

 _New message, 2:43 am_

 _Dan: I didn't win. I'm sorry._

 **A/N: idk how much I like this chapter ugh. I feel like all my work is super rushed and stuff and I need to embellish it with a bunch of detail.**

 **I just want to write stuff and be happy with ittttttt**


	25. Ch 24: Ultimatum

**A/N: If any of you play MysticMessenger, comment your favorite character! (Mine's Jumin)**

 **June 2** **nd**

Phil paced back and forth, texting his boyfriend yet another message. He had left his phone on accident and hadn't gotten Dan's text until he had returned to the penthouse. He had been frantically trying to reach him since then. So far, his attempts had been fruitless.

"Have you thought about it anymore?" Mr. Lester glanced up from his newspaper.

Phil turned back to his father. "What?"

The man sighed, giving his son a look. "Have you been listening in the slightest?"

"Sorry, I just have a lot on my mind." Phil turned his phone off, setting it face down on the counter. "What were you asking?"

"I was wondering if you had considered signing the contract."

Phil sighed, running a hand through his hair. As time went on, his father had only become more persistent in trying to get Phil to legally work for him. "I don't know… It's just not what I want to do with my life."

The businessman stood up, walking past Phil and gazing out the penthouse window. "When I created this arrangement—you working as a sort of _intern_ while I pay you out of my own wallet—I had no intentions of making this a long-term thing." Mr. Lester glanced back at his son. "I still don't."

Phil crossed his arms, leaning back against the counter. "What are you saying?"

"I'm giving you three days to make a choice. You can quit and take up your job as a painter, making a few hundred from commissions a month; _or_ you can begin working for me full time. You'll have a _real_ job, not this confusing arrangement we have going on now. You'll go straight into a respectable position. You'll be making thousands a month. You can travel wherever you like whenever you like, buy the newest technology, wear expensive clothes, spoil your lover…" Phil blushed, "All the while you'll still be able to paint in your free time."

Phil bit his lip, turning away. He couldn't deny the idea of working for the company had become more desirable lately. Commissions had been slow; he usually only got one or two a month… And while Phil was sure that number would go up as his notoriety increased, he had no idea how long that would take. Even with his parent's money, he was only allowed so much of their fortune, making it difficult for him to make bigger purchases like cars or houses. But there was something else scratching at the back of Phil's mind: How unfair it was that he could just take the money his parents earned when there were people like Dan struggling to buy dinner. Phil wanted to earn his wages. The work he had done for his father thus far was simple and easy, not worthy of the amount he was getting paid. He wanted to be deserving of what he received.

"I don't care about materialistic things like that;" Phil stated firmly, "but… I will think about it. I just want to talk to Dan first."

Mr. Lester smiled. "Very good. I'll be expecting an answer by the end of the trip." The man looked as if he was about to say something else but was distracted when his phone began ringing. "That would be Mr. Hark…" He muttered more to himself than to Phil. Quickly retrieving his device, he hurried out of the room.

Phil let out the breath he didn't know he had been holding in. He had never been afraid of his father, but he couldn't deny sometimes feeling intimidated by him. He had always thought of his father to be a businessman first and a person second: his priorities had always been with the company, never his family. He wasn't a bad father. He always remembered birthdays and holidays and made sure Phil was well-cared for and happy; he just wasn't the sentimental type.

With a sigh, the artist grabbed his phone off the counter, hoping for some sort of sign that Dan was okay.

Nothing.

Phil was starting to get worried. Dan had always been good at responding quickly—it was unlike him to just stop replying.

"Yeah, of course… No problem. Thanks again." Mr. Lester stepped back into the room, ending the call.

"When are we flying back into London?" Phil turned to face his father.

"The day after tomorrow. We still need to meet with Pear Electronics and Mrs. Austin."

Phil thought for a moment, chewing anxiously on his lip. "I'm going back tonight."

"What?" Mr. Lester looked up in surprise.

"Dan's going through a rough time right now, I want to be there for him." Phil stood up taller, trying to match his father's height. "I'm sure you'll do fine without me."

Mr. Lester tilted his head, staring at his son with a hard expression. "You are staying here."

"No, I'm not."

"Philip."

Phil's expression matched his kin's. "You're much more persuasive and charismatic than I am, why do you need me here?"

"Many people have a subconscious favoritism towards families in business." Mr. Lester paused. "It shows a sense of unity. If someone sees me with my son, it reminds them that I'm both a businessman and a human—that I have a family and emotions. This can make the other party trust me more; therefore, making them more likely to work with or buy from us."

"Well…" Phil gave a dry smile, "I wish you luck looking human without me."

 **June 3** **rd**

When the first rays of sunlight broke through dan's windows, he gave up on trying to sleep. As exhausted as he was, there was far too much on his mind for him to sleep.

His head felt heavy as he pushed himself out of bed, shuffling over to the bathroom. Dan stared glumly at his reflection, examining the dark circles under his eyes. He was too tired to feel sad anymore so instead, he felt empty. His mind seemed to draw a blank unless he made an effort to focus. Even thinking about how many books he had to pack up didn't faze him. He was numb.

He seemed to drift over to the kitchen, not realizing he had moved until he was standing in front of the sparsely stocked fridge. There was a pile of ketchup packets, a half-empty bottle of vodka, and a few apples. As tempting as the alcohol was, Dan grabbed the least-rotten apple off the shelf. Its skin was a bit wrinkled, but it was still firm on the inside.

The man made his way to the stairwell, trudging down it. When he reached the bottom, he stopped, looking around.

This had been his favorite place to be growing up. It had been his safe place, so to speak. Away from his mum. He practically lived at the shop during summers when school had gotten out. Dan had countless memories of reading here while his grandpa manned the register. He would always smile widely so that his eyes crinkled as he asked. "What did you pick this time?" And then Dan would delve into a summary of whatever book he had chosen. His grandpa had been the one to teach him to read. Every day during his lunch break he would sit with Dan, they would both eat their sandwich, and he would walk him through a chapter of whatever book they were reading. He was a good man; possibly the most important person in Dan's childhood.

Dan bit his lip, blinking the tears out of his eyes as he looked over the store. "Sorry, grandpa," He whispered, "I never wanted to disappoint you."

…

Time seemed both fleeting and sluggish as Dan spent the morning packing up the books. Some of the shelves had barely been touched since they were stocked decades ago, and the writer was beginning to wish that he dusted more regularly.

Around ten, the front door was swung open, and Dan heard the creak of the floorboards as someone stepped inside. "We're closed," He muttered, continuing to shove book after book into the box.

"Can you make an exception?"

Dan's head whipped around. "Phil! I thought you weren't going to be back for a few days?"

"Plans change." Phil shrugged, bending down to press a kiss to Dan's lips. "I wanted to come and visit last night but I didn't get back till three in the morning. So…" He began, his expression soft, "how are you? You didn't answer any of my calls or texts…"

"Yeah, sorry. I haven't touched my phone since I last talked to you." Dan gave his lover a tired, empty look. "I got evicted."

Phil took a seat next to his boyfriend, wrapping an arm around him. "You're welcome to stay with me. There's plenty of room for you."

Dan smiled weakly. "Thanks, but I've already arranged plans to live with a friend of mine from uni."

"Oh." Phil frowned slightly. "Anyone I know?"

"Tod? No, I don't think I've mentioned him. We aren't very close, but… he needs a roommate and I need somewhere to stay."

Phil nodded. "I see."

"Hey," Dan cupped Phil's face, tilting it towards him, "don't worry, I only have eyes for you."

Phil smiled, resting his forehead against Dan's. "How can I help?"

"Well… I have most of my stuff packed but I still need to get all these books boxed."

"What are you going to do with them all?"

"I bought a cheap storage cell on the edge of town, but…um," Dan paused, shifting to look at Phil, "I kinda need a way to move them all?"

"I'll take care of it," Phil gave his hand a squeeze. "I know a place that rents moving vans."

"Are you sure? I can pay you back for it, but I just don't have time to fool with the paperwork and stuff right now."

"Don't worry about it, just focus on packing right now." Phil pressed a kiss to Dan's hair, standing up. "I'll make arrangements this afternoon. Do you want me to start moving books?"

"Oh, yeah, thanks. That shelf over there can be put in that box." Dan motioned to a shelf full of kids' books. Phil was grateful—he didn't know how well his arm could handle moving stacks of thick, heavy books.

The two worked mostly in silence, neither sure what to say. As he thought about it more and more, Phil couldn't help but wonder if there was something Dan wasn't telling him.

 **A/N: endings are so difficult to write rip**


	26. Ch 25: Expenditure

**A/N: Shorter chapter, but I hope you'll still enjoy**

 **June 4** **th**

Phil sighed, combing a hand gently through his lover's hair. "My dad gave me an ultimatum."

"What for?" Dan's voice was slurred from exhaustion, his eyes opening a sliver to look up at Phil. The two had spent most of the morning packing up the last of the books. They had gotten a considerable amount done since yesterday but were yet to move any of the boxes to a storage unit.

"To decide if I want to officially work for him full-time."

Dan buried his face into Phil's shirt, his voice coming out muffled. "Wha' 're you gonna do?"

"I think I might say yes. Yeah, it's a hard job, but I don't despise it… Besides, it pays well."

"You'd still have time to paint, wouldn't you?"

"Yes… that was another thing I was thinking about…"

"And I guess you could always quit if you didn't like it."

"Yes…" Phil paused for a while. Dan's head was resting on his lap and the artist could feel his body shift with each breath he took. "So, you think I should?"

"I mean," Dan pushed himself into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes. "If you think it's a good career that won't make you want to die, I don't see why not."

The older man laughed softly. "I suppose you're right, it couldn't hurt."

Dan smiled weakly, reaching out to cup Phil's face. Phil frowned slightly, looking at the dark circles under his boyfriend's eyes. "Did you sleep last night?"

Dan leaned into Phil's touch, his eyes fluttering closed. "I'm fine."

"That's not what I asked."

Dan sighed, sitting back up. "Not really. I felt like I should be doing something productive to moving instead of sleeping so I stayed up until I felt like I was going to pass out. When I got in bed I was too tired and stressed to sleep, if that makes any sense…"

"Honey…" Phil pressed a kiss to Dan's hair. "Why don't you go take a nap? I can pack some while I'm here.

"No, no. I can't make you work while I'm relaxing."

"It's not relaxing, it's fundamental self-care."

"Phil, I can't…"

"Dan."

"I need to pack."

" _Dan._ " Phil cupped Dan's cheeks, staring intently at him. "I will literally carry you upstairs if I have to. Go to sleep."

Dan looked reluctant but finally gave in, "Fine."

"Good." Phil pressed a quick kiss to Dan's lips, stroking his hair back. "Call me if you need anything."

Dan mumbled something incoherent, got up, and trudged up the stairs.

…

Phil stacked the final box of cooking books, standing up to stretch. He winced, rubbing his shoulder tenderly. His bad arm could only take so much, and it was starting to get sore. He had been working for nearly three hours—a break seemed well-deserved.

Phil's steps seemed louder in the quietness. The old boards groaned as he tip-toed into Dan's room, pausing in the doorframe.

His boyfriend was lying in the center of his bed, cocooned in his wine-red duvet. Somehow, he looked tired even in his sleep. His mouth was tugged into a slight frown and every few seconds he would stir or make a soft noise.

Phil tutted softly, walking over to the side of Dan's bed and slipping off his shoes. Moving as gently as possible, Phil slipped under the covers next to Dan, wrapping an arm around his waist. Dan hummed, scooting back until he was pressed against his lover.

"I wish you'd let me help you…" Phil murmured into Dan's neck. "A couple thousand pounds is nothing to me, yet it's what you need to keep your home."

Dan sighed deeply, placing his hand over Phil's. "Not that simple." He mumbled. "There'd be more payments I couldn't make."

"Why did you work in this bookstore for so long? I mean, no offense but surely you knew the pay wasn't very good."

Dan was silent for a few seconds. He gently traced over Phil's fingers as he replied: "I wanted to make it work. For my grandad. This place used to be his."

Phil didn't know what to say to that. He eventually settled on pulling Dan closer and pressing a soft kiss to the back of his neck.

Dan smiled in his sleepy haze. "Thank you."

"For the kiss?"

"For everything…packing…not judging…being so kind…" Dan turned to face Phil, cupping his face. "It means a lot to me."

Phil grabbed Dan's free hand, intertwining their fingers. "I'm just doing what any good person would do."

"Yeah, but you're the one doing it. That makes it special." Phil let out a breath of laughter, shaking his head. "When should we get back to packing?" Dan muttered, the stress returning to his voice.

Phil hummed. "We've got time. Let's just…" Phil paused, pulling his boyfriend closer, "Relax a bit longer."

 **A/N: enjoy the fluff while it lasts xoxoxo**


	27. Author's Note

Okay this isn't super important but I just wanted y'all to know I changed Phil's father's net worth to 4 billion because that seems more reasonable considering how large his company is.

That's all~


	28. Ch 26: Vagrant

**a/n: So, I went back and changed Mr. Lester's position from a CEO to a Chairman since a chairman is the position I meant to give him, I just don't know business terminology rip**

 **June 5** **th**

Phil drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair, glancing around the familiar room. His father's office was neatly organized and very professional. The wall was lined with his various business degrees and a few awards he had won as the chairman. There were several photographs on the wall as well, mostly shots of him shaking hands with equally rich and powerful businessmen. There was only one family photo: a picture of Mr. Lester standing next to his wife and young son.

Phil got up from his seat, stepping to get a closer look at the photo. He remembered the day clearly: his mother had hired some fancy photographer to come over to take family portraits. Phil had never been much of one for pictures, but he was forced into an uncomfortably hot suit and made to stand still for an hour.

He chuckled at the memory, staring down at the small, pale face peering out at him. The child's hair was a gingery-brown, much lighter than Phil's current color. On the boy's lips was a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Phil had always thought it was rather ironic: growing up, he could get anything he wanted, yet he was never happy. No matter how many new toys or electronics he got, no matter how many exotic holidays his family went on, he felt like he was missing something. It wasn't until he became older that he realized this discontent stemmed from his loneliness. Although Phil had always been popular, it was because of his money and status rather than his personality. Better at talking to adults than kids his own age, Phil had struggled to make any close friends in school. He learned at a young age that it was possible to be alone while surrounded by people.

The doorknob turned, and the man spun back around.

"Phil, excuse my tardiness," Mr. Lester gave his son a curt smile, "the meeting ran longer than expected."

"It's fine."

"Please, take a seat." Phil obliged, his father sitting down on the opposite side of the desk. "So, have you come to a decision?"

Phil struggled to fight back a smile. His father _had_ always been one to get straight to the point. "I have." Phil paused, taking a deep breath. "I've decided to take you up on your offer. I'll work for you."

Mr. Lester smiled, a spark of satisfaction in his eyes. "Very good, I knew you'd come to your senses."

"Where will I be working?"

Mr. Lester opened a drawer in his desk, pulling out a file. "The man who managed the London branch just recently resigned. I've been handling it since, but I trust you could take care of it with ease?"

Phil choked, his eyes widening. "Y-you want me to become a branch manager? Just like that?"

Mr. Lester raised his eyebrows. "Do you feel ill-equipped for the position?"

"No, it's not that, it's just… It's not really fair, is it? Promoting me to such a high position just because I'm your son?"

"You misunderstand: this has nothing to do with you being my son." Mr. Lester slid the paperwork to Phil, his gaze serious. "True, it does help that you have connections, but that's not why I'm promoting you so quickly. I want you to take this position because you are the best applicant for it. You're hardworking: you managed to take business school during day and art classes at night, graduating from both colleges with exceptional scores. You have the qualifications for the position and enough experience. Whether you realized it or not, you've been working an apprenticeship in business since you were a teenager. You understand the statistics behind it, you know how things are run. You've watched as I raised this company from the dirt and made it an empire. You know how the game is played better than most of the people here. So, no, I'm not giving you such a high position off the bat because you're my own. That would be rather partial of me. I'm giving you this position because I've seen first hand that you're a damn good businessman, whether you like it or not." Phil tried to hide his shock. His father was never very complimentary, so any type of praise was rare for him. Perhaps Phil's compliance put him in a good mood. "That being said, if you prove to be an inadequate man for the job, I will fire you as quickly as I would any other worker. During business hours you are my employee first and my son second. Understood?"

Phil nodded, still trying to take everything in. "Yes, sir."

"Very good." Mr. Lester smiled stiffly, as he always did. "Now, for the paperwork."

 **June 6** **th**

Dan let out a grunt as he dropped the last of the boxes into the back of the moving truck. He took a moment to breathe, using the collar of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. "You're sure this is it?"

"Yeah, that was the last one,' Phil called out through the doorway.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Dan closed the back of the van.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help with the lifting." Phil leaned against the doorframe with a frown.

"Don't apologize, you've been so much of a help." Dan smiled, walking over to meet his boyfriend. "I wouldn't want you to hurt your arm any more than you already did. Do you know how you strained it?"

"Oh, uh," Phil paused, trying to think of something on the spot. "I helped my Dad move his file cabinet yesterday, it probably happened then."

Dan placed a hand on Phil's shoulder, rubbing it gently. "I hope it gets better soon."

"Yeah, thanks..." Phil was quick to change the topic. "So, what did you want to do for dinner?"

"Oh. I was just going to order a pizza I guess. I kinda want to eat here since, you know, it's my last evening."

The two fell silent, neither knowing what to say. Finally, Phil cleared his throat. "I can take care of the pizza. I need to go in that direction anyway, I still have to turn in my resignation form at the bar."

"Do you mind? I can pay you—"

"No need." Phil smiled. "I'll eat pretty much whatever, so just text me the order and I'll get it."

Dan smiled, but his eyes held the same dull glint of exhaustion. He pulled Phil into a hug, leaning into his chest. "I like you a lot…"

Phil chuckled softly, rubbing gentle circles on Dan's back. "I like you a lot, too."

The two stood in the middle of the empty room, holding each other close in the heavy atmosphere. It was quiet, the muffled street noise being the only audible sound. Phil sighed, going to pull away from the hug.

"Phil." Dan's grip on his boyfriend tightened, his fingers digging into his back.

Phil raised his eyebrows. "Dan?"

"Not… not yet… please."

Phil, though still surprised, smiled, hugging Dan tightly. "Of course, love."

…

The two men sat across from each other on the worn, red carpet, quietly eating their pizza. Conversation was sparse. Dan smiled sadly once or twice, recalling to Phil a fond memory from the little shop, but other than that he was somber.

Even after they finished the pizza, the two remained seated, neither talking. Phil found he didn't really mind. He could tell Dan was deep in thought and he didn't want to interrupt him. He only hoped that his presence might offer a small comfort.

Several moments later, Dan finally spoke. "It's nearly eight… I guess we should be going."

Despite this, he didn't get up.

Phil scooted closer, running a hand up and down his boyfriends back.

"Do you want a ride to Tod's house? You said he's nearby, didn't you?"

Dan shook his head, his gaze locked on the floor. "He already agreed to come pick me up but thank you."

Phil frowned. "Do you want me to wait with you?"

Dan bit his lip, trying to fight back tears. "If it's alright, I kinda want to be alone for a little bit."

"Of course, love."

The two stood up and Dan turned towards Phil, pulling him into a tight hug. Phil held him close, gently stroking his hair. "Call me if you need anything, okay? Whatever it is, I want to help."

Dan nodded, trying to push down the guilt in his stomach. He raised his gaze, meeting Phil's eyes. "I might be hard to reach the next few days while I get settled. I promise I'm not ignoring you."

Phil smiled, cupping Dan's face. "I understand."

The writer leaned forward, connecting their lips in a chaste kiss. "I'll see you in a couple days."

Phil nodded, "Whenever you're ready. I know this is all really hard for you, but I'm here if you need me. "

Dan nodded, hurriedly wiping his eyes. His feet stayed rooted in place as he watched Phil walk out to his car and get in, waving to Dan with a sad smile before driving off.

He was alone. Alone in the building that had been his favorite place in the world for over two decades.

Dan began to sob.

He hadn't expected to cry anymore, at least, not this hard. He had been crying so much these past few days he was surprised to feel tears running down his cheeks.

This was the last place he had that offered memories of his childhood. The good parts, at least. And now it was gone. Waiting to be bought by someone else who would tear up the old carpets and refurbish the rooms and paint over the walls. Any trace of Dan or his grandfather would be buried and eventually forgotten. Dan could feel his nails digging into his palm. His grandfather didn't deserve this. Although he would never push Dan into a career he didn't want, Dan could tell his grandfather hoped for the store to become a family business, passed down through the generations. He was ashamed that he couldn't handle it long enough to even consider having children.

…

Dan locked up the shop for the last time, dropping the key through the mail slot like he had been instructed. He quickly wiped the tears from his eyes, not wanting to draw attention from the passers-bys.

Taking one last look at the store, now nothing but a hollow shell of memories, Dan gathered his things, turned, and began to walk. He didn't stop until he reached the bridge by the river. It was a good distance away from the rest of town and provided a reasonable amount of shelter from the elements. He must not be the only one with this logic—there was a scattered pile of belongings near its base.

Dan stopped on the curb, setting down his bags and taking a seat on the suitcase. He knew he couldn't stay there forever. He just needed some time to come up with a plan. He had hoped to find a reasonable motel nearby, but there was no such lodging in the small town.

The man thought back to Phil's offer, his stomach twisting with guilt. He didn't want to burden Phil. What would that look like to others? A rich man letting his broke, homeless, unemployed boyfriend move in before they've even been dating for a month. Dan had only met a few of Phil's business-acquaintances, but it was enough for him to realize how much talk there would be if the dirty details got out. He didn't want Phil to have to deal with that, especially not now that he was an official employee. Even if that weren't an issue, he'd still be living off Phil's funds. And although he could afford the extra expenses, Dan didn't want to burden him.

A street lamp came on, flickering for a second before fully illuminating. Dan felt his stomach twist. He would have to go to sleep soon. The town didn't have a very high crime rate, but Dan was still nervous. What if the other person staying here was some kind of thug or criminal?

The man glanced around, pulling his jacket tighter around him.

He had always felt that it would come to this. The whole "rags-to-riches" trope was bullshit. He had been raised in poverty, he would live in poverty, and would die in poverty. That's just how things worked. How could he have ever been so stupid to think that he could become an author? He couldn't _afford_ to have an art career; that was a luxury for people like Phil who had room for failure. Why did he waste all his savings on law school when he could have just skipped university and gone into manual labor? That would have saved him _thousands._

Dan laughed bitterly. He had been setting himself up for failure this whole time and was too ashamed to admit it. If only he had realized this sooner, maybe things would be different. Maybe he'd have a nice house. Maybe he'd have a stable career. But the maybes didn't matter. All that mattered was the reality: Dan was homeless and unemployed with barely enough pocket money to afford a week at a motel

 **A/N: oops :)**


End file.
